Property of Odine Laboratories (Esthar Chronicles 2)
by Dee Moyza
Summary: A mix-up at the Esthar shopping mall leaves Irvine in possession of some very unusual ammunition. Though it is clearly marked as belonging to Odine Laboratories and still in trials, Irvine can't resist trying it out, with very unpleasant consequences – for himself and everyone around him. Post-game, multi-chapter. [Rated T for violence, language, and innuendo.]
1. Chapter 1

_(Disclaimer: As a work of fanfiction, the creation of this piece does not imply ownership of the Final Fantasy franchise, its characters, or any affiliated intellectual property.)_

Selphie was late. Irvine kicked the duffel bag at his feet, sending up a small cloud of dust, and watched people bustle through the Deling City airstation. Four years after Adel had come down and ended the worldwide signal interference, air travel had become common again, though it remained pricey if one was not traveling on their employer's gil. Luckily for Irvine, Balamb Garden was willing to make an expenditure on his behalf.

Or, more accurately, Laguna was. Irvine had not set foot in a Garden since the Trabia Garden restoration project wrapped up two years ago. He'd spent his time since drifting from one job to the next, and keeping his shooting skills sharp on the competitive circuit. He'd performed well enough there to coast on his winnings for a few months at a time, and to catch the attention of the Deling City chief of police at the last tournament.

"That was some impressive shooting out there today," the chief said, patting Irvine on the back.

"Oh, uh, thanks … sir." Irvine smiled sheepishly, unsure whether Galbadia Garden-level formality was necessary with the leader of the police force.

"It's Clayburn. And I'd like you to consider sharing your talent with the Deling City police someday. The department's tactical squad could always use a sniper with your skill." Clayburn handed him a business card. "Let me know if you're interested."

"Eh, I'll think about it." Irvine unceremoniously crammed the card into his wallet and excused himself. He wasn't sure he wanted to return to a life of orders and regimentation, not after surviving Garden. Besides, he didn't have time to think about that at the moment. Right now, he had a party to attend, and a small fortune at his disposal.

A few months later, his winnings dwindling, he was beginning to wonder where his next month's rent was coming from when Selphie contacted him with an offer. Since Ultimecia's defeat, Laguna had found more and more opportunities to contract SeeD – specifically, the same group he'd hired before, which came to be known within the organization as Balamb Garden's golden geese. Garden had secured a lucrative contract with the Estharian government for an annual two-week hunt, to cull the population of lunar creatures still in Esthar, and to collect items and specimens for study. Irvine had never been invited to participate, but Garden suddenly found itself in a tight spot following the resignation of one of its geese.

"So, Squall finally had it, huh?" Irvine said. "What, did he and Rinoa run off together or something?"

"Nope, Squall's still here," Selphie replied. "Rinnie, too."

"Well, it couldn't have been Zell. That guy's all about duty and loyalty and Garden-sanctioned punching."

"You're right. It was Quisty."

"Quisty?" Irvine screeched.

"Yep! Irvy, you've missed a _lot_!" Selphie giggled, then gleefully launched into a summary of what had happened.

Apparently, Quistis had gone to Esthar for a research project. That project turned into a job, and her research partner became a partner of a different sort. Or something like that. Irvine never got the whole story; Selphie kept interrupting herself to gush over Quistis' guy. Details didn't matter, anyway, because the end result was the same: Quisty had undertaken a project, snagged both a job and a boyfriend out of the deal, and moved to Esthar to start her new life.

As the shock wore off, Irvine felt a swell of pride for Quistis, though he doubted she would appreciate his language if he articulated why.

"So, how long ago did this happen?" he asked.

"Last year."

"Last year? Why didn't anyone call me then?"

"We couldn't track you down, and we didn't have the time. Quisty left right before the hunt. Rinnie stepped in to help, but Dr. Odine used that as an excuse to run some 'studies' on her, and he loaded her down with so many bangles and monitors and electrodes that she could hardly move on the battlefield. She wants to try again this year, but Cid will only let her if there's someone else to pick up her slack. I told Sir Laguna about it, and he asked me to call you."

"Well, at least I know Laguna remembers me."

"Oh, don't be like that! I didn't forget you. But I also wasn't about to go to Cid with any suggestions. He's been super critical of everyone since what happened with Quisty. Let's just say that a hunky librarian isn't the only reason she left Garden. Or even the main reason."

Irvine sighed. There was so much about Garden – about Selphie – that he didn't understand anymore. It seemed that everyone around him insisted on changing, and it felt like they did so only to spite him for his carefree and unburdened lifestyle. They didn't have to. If they were so jealous of it, they should try it themselves, starting with pulling those sticks out of their –

"So, you in?" Selphie's voice cut through Irvine's thoughts, her sunny tone bringing a smile to his lips despite his sour mood.

"I guess," he said.

"Irvy, I'm gonna need a real answer, so I can make the proper arrangements."

"Fine, but how am I getting paid? I'm not a SeeD."

"Esthar will draw up a civilian contract for you, like they did for Rinnie last year. Laguna will personally pay you for your service." She paused, and he could hear papers shuffling in the background. "So, yes or no? I really don't have all day."

"Uh, yeah." Irvine rubbed the back of his neck and frowned. "I've just got one more question for you, Sefie."

"Yeah?"

"When did you get so uptight?"

"I am _not _uptight!"

Irvine chuckled. That was the reaction he'd been looking for. Somewhere, beneath the layers of maturity and professionalism, the real Selphie Tilmitt survived.

"Oops, sorry, my mistake. But for a second there, you sounded just like Xu."

Amid shouts to take back his words, Irvine casually said goodbye and hung up. His heart felt lighter and his breath came easier. What had he been thinking? Selphie would never go and change on him.

Not really.

• • • •

Selphie spotted him first, and shouted his name across the airstation terminal. He looked up and found her in the crowd, decked out in her SeeD uniform and waving wildly. He waved back, but when he took too long to collect his duffel bag and weapon case, she rolled her eyes and walked toward him, briskly but stiffly.

"Ugh, I hate SeeD skirts!" she muttered. "They don't let you move. Thank goodness we don't have to fight in these things!"

"They look pretty good, though, especially with those boots," Irvine said. "I'd pay to watch a bunch of you ladies fight in that."

"I'm sure you would. Glad to see you're still the same, Irvy."

"Of course! I'll never change." He smiled, but noticed that Selphie seemed less than thrilled with his declaration. He cleared his throat and adjusted his grip on his luggage. "Anyway, what took you so long? I've been waitin' here forever!"

"Emergency maintenance on MogMog – er, Balamb Garden's other airship."

"MogMog? You _named _an airship?"

"Yes, I did." Selphie stood straight and put her hands on her hips. "I named _both_ of them, after the sports teams at Trabia Garden."

"Really? What are we flying in today?"

"The Mach Chocobo."

Irvine laughed. "That's great! Sefie, you're awesome!"

"I know. So, you ready to go?"

"You bet!" He followed her toward the departure gate. "It's gonna be strange meeting up with everybody after so long. Do you think they'll remember me?"

"Irvy, for better or for worse, you're unforgettable."

"Heh-heh. I'll take 'for better,' please."

"You don't get to decide." Selphie tipped her head to the side, thinking. "Well, maybe you do. It depends on how you act." She gave him a sidelong glance.

"What? I'm always on my best behavior!"

She continued to look at him. He sighed and let his shoulders droop.

"Fine, I'll be on my extra-best behavior. No dirty jokes, no flirting, no tragic stories about how hard my job is."

"Good." They reached the airship and boarded, and as Selphie slid into the pilot's seat, a grin stretched across her face and her childlike enthusiasm returned. She jerked a thumb toward the seat next to her. "Take a load off, Irvy. You can be my co-pilot for today."

Irvine fastened his seatbelt and watched Selphie make preparations for takeoff. The engines roared to life, and she turned toward him, one eyebrow raised. He nodded, took a deep breath, and as the airship lifted off, they shouted in unison.

"Whoo-hoo! We're flying!"

• • • •

There was something different about Balamb Garden that Irvine couldn't quite put his finger on. The place still looked the same, with SeeDs and cadets milling about, chatting amongst themselves or striding purposefully toward the library or training center, but it was quieter than he remembered. It wasn't the near-silence of Galbadia Garden, but Balamb Garden seemed far less exuberant now. The students' eagerness, the excitement over becoming a SeeD, and the sense of community that fostered, seemed to have dimmed over the years. Was it because SeeD had already completed its fated mission? Because the rest of Garden got a firsthand look at what being a SeeD _really_ meant from the group that faced down Ultimecia? Because the relative peace afterward had resulted in a lack of big contracts, and thus, a lack of funding to keep the place running in the same way?

Or, maybe it was just boredom. Irvine could definitely understand if it was.

Whatever it was, it had nothing to do with him anymore. He nodded at the people he passed, and even tipped his hat at a few female SeeDs as Selphie led him through the dormitories to an empty room in a wing reserved for visiting students and faculty.

"Here you are," she said brightly. "Your home for the night."

"Cool." Irvine flopped onto the bed and winced as the impact rippled through his body. He'd forgotten how hard these mattresses were. No wonder all these kids looked so grumpy. Nobody could get a good night's sleep on these beds.

"What's the matter, Irvy, tired already? Wow, you must be really out of shape!"

"No, I'm not! But what else is there for me to do?"

"Eat. Aren't you hungry? The cafeteria opened for dinner about half an hour ago. Come on!"

He followed Selphie through the cafeteria line, grinning uneasily as she kept requesting larger portions for him because he was a "special guest of SeeD." Tray in hand, Selphie scanned the room and led him to a table in the corner, where Rinoa sat, reading a book and absentmindedly finishing her dinner. She looked up as Selphie and Irvine approached, and smiled.

"Hi, Irvine," she said, putting down her book and moving her tray aside to make room for theirs. "It's been a while."

"Sure has, Miss Heartilly." Irvine sat down and studied her. "And, is it just me, or have you gotten prettier in the meantime? Those sorceress powers seem to be treating you we—" He stopped abruptly when Selphie elbowed him in the side.

"Sorry, Rinnie," she said. "Irvine still hasn't given up his sleazy ways."

"Oh, it's all right," Rinoa replied with a little laugh. "He's harmless."

"Harmless?" Irvine frowned.

"Besides, it's nice to know that some things don't change. After everything that's happened, I welcome a constant."

"A constant …" Selphie mulled over Rinoa's words. "Yeah, I guess that's what Irvy is. Kinda like the stars."

"Or the ocean."

"Or a sundial."

"Hmm, I like that comparison. Irvine staying the same shows us how much we've changed."

Irvine didn't like it. While he was more than happy to be compared to the ocean or the stars – especially by Selphie – he resented being seen as an object other people used to measure their own growth. Nonetheless, he laughed good-naturedly and tried to change the subject.

"So," he said, looking around, "where's the gallant knight?"

"Fighting the battle of the inbox." Rinoa groaned. "Cid's kept him buried in pointless paperwork for months. It's gotten so bad, he told me he was actually looking forward to our assignment."

"Squall, _wanting_ to go to Esthar? He remembers Laguna's there, right?"

"Laguna is the lesser of two evils for him right now. Besides, they're getting along pretty well."

"Aww, father-son bonding?"

"No, and I'm not sure if it'll ever get to that point. But in a professional context, they seem comfortable with one another. Squall actually listens to him, and Laguna has learned to stop talking every now and then and give him room to speak."

"See?" Selphie mumbled, her mouth full of food. "Even Squall and Laguna have changed." She swallowed. "Which makes it super-_duper_ strange that you haven't."

"Hey, I don't have to change," Irvine said. "You can't improve on perfection, anyway."

"Perfection?" Selphie pursed her lips, her shoulders shaking, before erupting into loud laughter. Rinoa joined her, pounding the table and wiping at her eyes. They stopped for a moment and looked at him. Then, Selphie repeated herself, and they began again.

Irvine gave a smug grin, but shifted in his seat and began picking at his food. What was up with all this judgment about change and growth? Why did Selphie care so much? Why did anybody? He was fine with his life, and, if he was honest, their comments were dripping with resentment. They'd changed, and they weren't happy about it. Well, it wasn't _his _fault.

And it wasn't his problem to solve.

After the ladies had spent themselves laughing, they moved on to other topics, trying their best to include Irvine by providing context via anecdotes and incidental details. He appreciated their effort, but despite it, he remained largely on the periphery of the conversation.

Soon, Zell joined them, followed by Squall. They both greeted Irvine more warmly than he'd expected them to, and settled down with their own meals. For a moment, it felt as if time had rewound itself, as if they were the same group of kids who'd taken down a powerful sorceress just months before, now wondering about their next move, and enjoying their time together. But as the conversation ramped up once more, Irvine was left behind. SeeDs, it seemed, moved at a different pace than most people, and even Rinoa, who years before, had shared his fear of falling out of step with them, had acclimated to it.

Selphie and Rinoa gestured and laughed, Zell shouted, Squall grumbled, and Irvine smiled awkwardly, struggling to keep up, grasping at anything familiar to stay afloat in this strange new current.

• • • •

The kiosks didn't judge.

Technically, they couldn't, being machines. But after all the questions and comments and stares he'd weathered from his old friends, Irvine was happy to have an impartial interaction, if only with a touch-screen.

Besides, the kiosk didn't give him any funny looks when he selected the latest issue of _Girl Next Door_, though he was surprised to find it in Esthar. Apparently, beneath their pristine robes and pompous attitudes, some Estharians were just as dirty-minded as he was. He chuckled, and wondered whether he could use this revelation to his advantage with the local ladies.

He finished his shopping – the magazine, a few Hi-Potions, and a couple boxes of ammo – and was on his way back to the hotel to rest up for the next day, balancing the items in his arms, when a woman came scurrying around the corner and collided with him. His purchases went flying, along with whatever she was carrying, and they both landed hard on their backsides.

"Ow! Oh, sheesh, I'm sorry, ma'am!" Irvine scrambled to his feet and helped her up.

"No, I should apologize. I wasn't looking where I was going." The woman dusted the back of her robe – an unnecessary action in this part of the city – and laughed awkwardly. She stooped and began collecting her belongings, and Irvine did the same. When he noticed his magazine lying open to a particularly salacious spread, however, he flushed, then lunged and scooped it up, along with his other items, and bid the woman a hasty farewell.

That was close. Just because some shops had begun selling this magazine in Esthar didn't mean everybody wanted to see it, especially some woman who was clearly in a hurry to get someplace else.

Back at the hotel, Irvine entered the room he was sharing with Squall and Zell, and noticed neither of them had returned yet. He knocked on the door to the adjoining room, but neither Selphie nor Rinoa seemed to be in, either.

Perfect.

He pulled off his boots and stretched out on his bed, prepared to while away the afternoon with Darlin' Darlene, Svelte Svetlana, and – who could forget? – Bodacious Bernadette. When he shoved his other items aside to retrieve the magazine, however, something caught his eye. One of the ammo boxes was a slightly different color. He picked it up and realized, with a sinking feeling, that it was not his. He must have taken one of that lady's things during the confusion. How was he ever going to return it to her? Go back to the shopping mall and hope she comes back, too? Or, maybe Esthar had some kind of city-wide lost-and-found. What about an ad … but an ad in _what_? Did Esthar even have a traditional newspaper?

As he was wondering what to do with the box, he turned it over and noticed a bright red stamp on the top: PROPERTY OF ODINE LABORATORIES. This had just gotten very interesting. Another side of the box had a printed label attached. He squinted at it, and a mischievous grin spread across his face. BLUE BULLETS, the label read. YAULNY CANYON SKILLSET. SAMPLE – FOR LABORATORY TRIALS ONLY. Ignoring another proprietary stamp, Irvine opened the box and slid out a cardboard insert holding a dozen bullets filled with different-colored gels. A handwritten card correlated each color to a specific creature – yellow was Wendigo, green was Cockatrice. Blue for Grendel, and red for Funguar.

What could this mean? What were these kooky Estharians up to now?

Irvine pulled out a bullet for inspection. It was large, more a shell than a bullet, and reminded him of the Fire Ammo he'd used before. In fact, it appeared to use the same hull. It would definitely work with his gun.

He laid back and considered the possibilities. Maybe he could figure out what these mystery bullets were for himself. He didn't have to use them all, just a couple, just to see what was so special about them, and how they were connected to the monsters listed in the note.

Maybe he would even make some discovery, bypass all those laboratory tests and government regulations these poor bullets were destined to languish in for years, and single-handedly change firearms combat and shooting competitions forever.

After all, wasn't _change_ what everybody seemed to want from him?

He replaced the bullet and slid the box into the nightstand drawer. No, this wasn't his ammo; it was better. It was a chance to shake up the old routine, to try something new.

"Watch out, moon monsters,"he said aloud, grinning even wider. "Irvine Kinneas is back in town. New and improved!"

* * *

**Author's Note: **I borrowed the term "blue bullet" from Final Fantasy X-2 because, frankly, it was perfect for the concept here. The usage of this term in no way indicates a crossover between the two games.


	2. Chapter 2

Zell was the first to return. Irvine heard the door beep in recognition of a key card, then Zell trundled in, bags bulging with snacks in each hand, his key card between his teeth.

"'Suh?" he said around the card, lifting his chin in greeting. He dumped the contents of the bags onto his bed and began sorting them using his own system of classification.

"Nothin' much," Irvine answered. "Had myself a lazy afternoon. Say, did Squall come back with you, by any chance?"

"Nope."

"I see. Any idea where he is, or when he might be back?"

"Dunno." Zell examined a bright red package, then tossed it into one of the piles of snacks he'd formed on his bed. He did the same with a handful of energy bars, assigning each to a different pile, then turned toward Irvine. "Why are you worried about Squall gettin' back? Is there something you need to ask him?"

"No, not exactly." Irvine thought for a moment. "Hey, Zell, you can keep a secret, right?"

"Depends on what it is. If you're doing something illegal, you'd better not tell me."

"It's nothing like that!" Irvine went to his nightstand and pulled out the box of Blue Bullets. Hunching over the box so Zell couldn't see the Odine Laboratories stamps on it, he pulled out a shell filled with yellow gel. "It's just new ammo, see? I found it at the shopping mall today." Technically, not a lie.

Zell examined the shell. "I've never seen anything like this before. What's it called?"

"Blue Bullet."

"But it's yellow."

"I just know the name, don't know how they got it. It's probably named after somebody. Horatio Blue, or whoever."

"So, what's the big deal about this ammo? Why don't you want Squall to know you have it?"

"Because I kinda don't know what it does yet." Irvine grinned sheepishly. "If Squall finds out, he won't let me use it in the hunt. Something about regulations and liability and stuff."

"He's right." Zell went back to organizing his snacks.

"But if I don't use it, I'll never learn what it does. And that's where you come in."

"I won't tell Squall. Now, let me finish sorting my food."

"I appreciate that, but that's not what I wanted to ask – _yeouch_!" Irvine tossed the shell onto his bed and looked at his fingers. While he'd been holding the shell, the gel inside had gradually warmed, until it became too hot to touch, and left the skin on his thumb and index finger bright red. He placed his injured fingers into his mouth, and withdrew them quickly when Zell turned around.

"Uh, just a cramp," Irvine said, grinning and massaging his hand. "Must've been holding that shell tighter than I thought."

"Weirdo."

"Anyway, as I was saying …" Irvine drifted off, frowning. The room swam around him; he felt for the bed, and sat down. He shook his head and blinked, and, after a few moments, his world stabilized again. "Whew, a little dizzy there. Must be this dry Estharian air. It really messes with my sinuses, and _holy son of a Shumi_, Zell, what's wrong with your _face_?"

"What the hell are you talking about, Kinneas?" Zell's features had become fluid, sliding across his face with each movement. When he tipped his head to the side, his eyes slid over, coming to rest against his temple. His tattoo shivered and wriggled and then broke free, slithering across Zell's face, forming a bridge between his eyebrows, then a pair of spectacles, and finally, a cartoonish mustache. Irvine didn't know whether to laugh or scream, and the result was a low-pitched chuckle.

"Hey, man, you okay?" Zell continued, approaching Irvine. His limbs were long and rubbery, twisting up on themselves, and when he reached out to feel Irvine's forehead, Irvine slapped his hand away and rolled backwards, off his bed and onto the floor between his and Squall's. He crouched there and pressed his palms to his eyes, muttering curses and hoping desperately that he would wake from this nightmare soon. He heard Zell's footsteps getting closer, felt his presence nearby, and slowly opened his eyes.

Zell looked fine.

"What the hell was that all about?" he asked, reaching down and helping Irvine up. "What's the matter with my face?"

"Nothing …" Irvine answered, his tongue feeling thick and heavy. What had that been? A hallucination? From what? He hadn't eaten anything strange today – breakfast at the hotel, a quick lunch near the shopping mall – and, even if he had, he figured he would've felt the effects of it far sooner. He'd only had water to drink since then, and had taken no medications. He'd done nothing out of the ordinary. Well, nothing except …

He looked at the bullet on the bed, then at his reddened fingertips. Was there a connection?

"Nothing, my ass!" Zell shouted. "You looked at me like I had three heads! Listen, I know I'm not the best-looking guy in the world, but you don't have to be so mean about it."

"N-no, I just thought I saw something on your face. A spider. Yeah, that's it, a spider. You know I'm scared of those things."

"Really?" A mischievous grin pulled at Zell's lips. "You're scared of spiders? Big bad Irvine Kinneas, ladies' man, lone wolf, sharpshooter, is scared of _spiders_?" He began to laugh. "Wait 'til Selphie gets a load of this!"

"Hey, I thought you were good at keeping secrets."

"Not this one. It's too wild. Spiders. Ha!"

Irvine flopped down on his bed, brushing the Blue Bullet away from him with the back of his hand and noticing a light scorch mark on the sheet beneath it. Whatever this ammunition was, it was powerful, and he was desperate to know how it functioned in battle. Causing hallucinations couldn't be the extent of it; that seemed like an incredibly inefficient way to fight. But since it seemed to be a side effect of usage, he definitely didn't want to try them out on the sly tomorrow, in case he went bonkers on the battlefield and ended up hurting someone, or himself. He could feel the window of opportunity closing; he had to do it tonight.

"Hey, Zell," he said, as casually as he could, "before this whole spider thing, I was about to ask you for a favor."

"What is it?" Zell had finished sorting his snacks and was now rationing them for the days ahead, putting a day's supply into his duffel bag and dropping each of the remaining rations into their own oversized zipper bag.

"Training. I'm still a great shot, but it's been a while since I've seen battle. I gotta get back into the flow of things."

"The way you're acting today? Forget it."

"Come on, Zell. I just need to get a feel for battle again, for the pace, for the danger."

Zell said nothing, and began labeling the bags.

"I'm gonna be dead weight tomorrow if I don't get a refresher tonight."

"Then why'd you wait so long? Why didn't you ask this morning?"

Irvine shrugged. "Overconfidence, I guess." He was willing to admit to anything, so long as he got a chance to try out that ammunition.

"That's a problem with you, isn't it?"

"Hey, I didn't ask for a character analysis! I only want a little practice."

Zell ignored him again. Irvine exhaled slowly. He didn't want to do this, but the situation called for drastic measures.

"Oh, I get it," he sneered. "You don't want to get in trouble. Little goody-two-shoes Zell, a true boy scout! Always follows the rules, never talks back to his mama!"

"I do so talk back to her!" Zell wheeled around and stamped his foot. "I just always apologize right after," he added quietly.

"See what I mean? Boy scout. It's nice to know I'm not the only one who hasn't changed."

"I'm not a boy scout!"

"Oh, then I guess you're just chicken. What was it that Seifer guy used to call you? Sefie told me … chicken-something … chicken-worm? Chicken-wolf? No, that doesn't make any sense …"

"Wuss! Chicken-wuss!" Zell's face was red, his fists clenched tightly. "And he's wrong! I'm not chicken, I just believe that rules are there for a reason. And they are."

"Really? 'Cause that's something a chicken would say."

"I am _not _a chicken!"

"Prove it."

"Aargh, fine! I'll take you for a quick training session." Zell returned to his snacks. "As soon as Squall gets back."

Irvine clucked.

Zell groaned. "Okay, get ready. I'll leave him a note. We'll rent a car and drive a little ways out of the city. Only for a couple hours, though; I need to rest for tomorrow."

"Yes, sir! Thank you, oh brave and wonderful –"

"Get moving!"

• • • •

Tears' Point was eerie at nighttime. The crystals had long since expended whatever energy they'd had left after reacting to the Lunatic Pandora, and now stood cold and dark in their cracked cases, casting long shadows in the moonlight. The air was heavy and still, but not silent: creatures scuttled among the boxes, claws scraping on glass and stone amid the soft growls of Toramas and the clanking footsteps of Iron Giants.

"I said just outside the city," Zell whispered, running to catch up to Irvine. He grumbled and groused, having been goaded into venturing farther and farther from the city before ending up here.

"Yeah, but the plains have Behemoths," Irvine said, "and I do not want to run into them without a full party."

"Toramas are worse. They've got some nasty spells, and you aren't even junctioned."

"Are you?"

"Yeah."

"Does Squall know?"

"Shut up."

Irvine crept down the main walkway, and froze when a group of Turtapods spotted him. They hobbled toward him, moving faster than he remembered, and engaged in combat. He'd forgotten how tough they were; it took several rounds to take just one of them down, and he took a few hits in the process. Zell stood by, administering Cure spells as needed, and growing more impatient by the second. Rolling his eyes, he finally stepped forward and cast a Death spell on one Turtapod, killing it instantly, then rushed up and punched the other, leaving it momentarily stunned. Irvine seized the opportunity to finish it off. He turned to Zell with a smile, but was met with a frown and shaking head.

"You're gonna be dead weight tomorrow, no matter what," Zell said. "You're not used to things actually fighting back anymore, are you?"

"Of course not." Irvine reloaded his gun. "That's why I need the practice."

"You need a lot more than what you'll get tonight."

"Relax. I'm a quick re-learner. I'll be back in tip-top fighting form before we leave here." He peered around a darkened box, and was driven back, shouting and flailing, by a group of Imps.

He disposed of the three monsters easily this time, and turned toward Zell with a smirk. But as he was flicking up the brim of his hat to underscore his reclaimed confidence, one of the dying Imps concentrated its remaining energy into a Holy spell that left Irvine's skin sizzling. Zell smacked his forehead and tossed him an X-Potion.

The medicine was cool as it slid down Irvine's throat, and that coolness radiated through his body, repairing his skin and revitalizing him.

"See?" he said, staggering backwards and leaning against a box, struggling to appear nonchalant. "Back in form!"

"Like hell you are," Zell replied. "Come on, we're heading back. Before you get yourself killed."

"Wait! I haven't tried the new ammo yet."

"You're not going to. It's too dangerous. Let's go."

"Just one battle. Please? I'm dying to know what they do!"

"Interesting choice of words."

"C'mon Zell, be a sport! I know you're just as curious as I am." Irvine rummaged through his bag and pulled out the box of Blue Bullets. He opened it and selected one filled with red gel, then held it up in the moonlight and watched Zell's expression soften.

"Well, maybe." Zell held up one finger. "But only one more!"

"Got it! In that case, we need something with high defense, so I can try out _all_ these babies … Hey, is that an Iron Giant over there? Let's get 'im!"

The Iron Giant creaked and clanged, rust and sand pouring from its joints with every movement. It was slower than Irvine remembered, and he easily dodged its attack. He waited until the monster paused to scan the area, its vision obscured by its own broad torso; then, he took careful aim, and fired.

He heard the bullet's impact on metal, but saw no effect on the Iron Giant. He frowned, and was beginning to wonder if these bullets weren't some kind of harmless novelty – a gag gift, perhaps – when a bright light forced him to look away. The light was accompanied by a high-pitched sound, and when he ventured a glance, he saw that it had become a red beam that sliced a clean line through the giant's body from its feet to the top of its head. The Iron Giant stumbled backwards, and was slow to straighten.

"Whoa! Did you see that?" Irvine nudged Zell with his elbow. "That looked like some kind of laser-thingy!"

"It was." Zell drew his brows together. "I've seen it before …"

"Hey, it's kinda like Quisty's spell, isn't it?"

"No, hers doesn't travel." Zell assumed a defensive position as the Iron Giant recovered. "It looked more like the laser attack from a Funguar."

"Funguar? Why would they make ammo mimicking an monster's attack?" Irvine looked at the green shell he was loading into his gun and grimaced. "You don't suppose that's what's in these things, do you? Bits of monsters?"

"That's sick, man. Where do you get those stupid ideas?" Zell shook off his disgust and motioned toward the Iron Giant. "Now, focus, unless you wanna get chopped in half!"

Irvine turned his attention back to the monster and dodged its attack. It moved even slower now that it had been injured. He almost felt sorry for it. _Almost_. He dodged another swipe, then raised his gun, aimed, and fired. Again, the sound of the shell hitting metal, followed by seconds of silence. This time, the silence was broken by a crackling sound, and tendrils of yellow light emerged from the site of impact, wrapping around the Iron Giant and immobilizing it. Once the light faded, the giant staggered again.

"These things are awesome!" Irvine picked up a yellow shell. "All right, you burned my fingers earlier, let's see what you really do now!"

He watched the giant get back on its feet and prepared for another attack. When it didn't come, Irvine took aim. He registered Zell's cries to hold his fire only after he pulled the trigger.

Irvine realized too late that the Iron Giant hadn't attacked because it was preparing a spell. It reached out, heavy rusted fingers splayed, and cast Mighty Guard. Irvine's bullet hit the giant just as the barrier began to form. The outward force of the spell deflected the bullet, and Irvine fell to the ground as something swept his right leg out from beneath him.

"Dammit, I told you not to shoot!" Zell rushed to Irvine's side and rolled him over, then winced at what he saw.

Irvine blinked up at him, and gradually became aware of excruciating pain in his leg. He raised himself to his elbows to investigate, then cursed at the top of his lungs when he saw the wound. The bullet had ricocheted directly into his leg, tearing through his chaps, his pants, his skin and muscle, before rupturing against his bone. Viscous yellow fluid seeped from the shell, steaming and sizzling as it made contact with his flesh. Irvine yowled, then grabbed the remains of the shell, yanked it free, and flung it into the shadows.

Zell, meanwhile, had risen and cast a Blind spell on the Iron Giant. The monster swung and stumbled, harmless so long as it didn't fall on them. He knelt beside Irvine once more and unscrewed the cap on another X-Potion.

"This is gonna sting a bit," he warned, before pouring the contents of the bottle into the wound.

Irvine's screams went up a register as the potion bubbled and foamed, cleansing the wound. When the reaction subsided, however, the yellow gel remained. Zell tried again, with the same results. Then, looking at puddle of blood beneath Irvine's leg, he shrugged and cast Curaga.

Irvine's stomach lurched, and he swallowed hard as he watched his blood flow back into his wound, followed by his muscles and skin stitching themselves together again, leaving the holes in his clothes as the only evidence that he had been injured. He hated magical healing, especially of traumatic injuries. It was unnatural. Give him a tourniquet and a splint any day, and let his body heal on its own.

"Get up," Zell told him. "You still have to finish this guy off."

Irvine flopped onto the cool concrete. "Can't you do it? That 'healing' of yours wiped me out. Thanks a lot, Dr. Dincht."

"You're welcome."

"I was being sarcastic."

"I wasn't. If it wasn't for me, you'd still be bleeding. And with your carrying on like a baby, it wouldn't have been long before a Torama took you for a late-night snack."

"Eh …"

"Get up."

"Do I have to?"

"Do you want your paycheck?" Zell towered over him, shoulders squared. Behind him, the Iron Giant still swung at the air. "If you can't finish this battle, then I have no choice but to tell Squall what you've been up to. Using unauthorized ammunition, engaging in unauthorized training, battling without proper protective junctions. He'll send you straight back to Deling City."

Irvine pushed himself up to his knees. "Oh yeah? And what about you? You've gone along with everything you just listed. He'll sideline you, too!"

"Yeah, well …" Zell stammered, trying to come up with scathing response. Irvine smirked and collected his gun, then tentatively got to his feet. "Well, you're a crappy fighter!" Zell finally said, jabbing a finger into Irvine's chest. "You'll drag us all down! I swear, if you can't even off an Iron Giant, a _blinded _Iron Giant, then you don't deserve whatever Laguna's paying you."

"Chill, Dincht." Irvine reloaded his gun, with regular ammunition this time, and dispatched the Iron Giant after several rounds. "There. Happy?" He shouldered his bag and limped toward the exit.

"Finally!" Zell jogged ahead, and had the car running by the time Irvine reached it. "You really are rusty, Kinneas. I hope you do better tomorrow. And no crazy ammo!"

"Fine." Irvine fastened his seatbelt and rolled down the window. The air had cooled as the night wore on, and it felt refreshing against the sweat beading on his upper lip. He watched the stars twinkle overhead, and couldn't help feeling disappointed. Seeing what the red and green shells had done, he definitely wanted to see what the others would. Now, he'd never get the chance. There was no way he could incorporate this new ammunition into his competitive routine.

Despite the night breeze, he continued to sweat. He removed his hat and ran his hand across his forehead, then shook it dry out the window. He had worried that the contents of the shell might have a more pronounced effect on him than they had before, now that they were actually inside his body. But, so far, he hadn't felt dizzy, and had had no hallucinations. He did, however, have a stomachache that was steadily getting worse. Sweat continued to stream down his face, and bile rose into the back of his throat. He was about to ask Zell to stop the car when more than bile made the trip up. Unable to speak, he leaned out the window and retched, leaving a trail of vomit streaked along the side of the car.

"What the hell?" Zell slammed on the brakes, raising a cloud of dust. Irvine undid his seatbelt and stumbled out of the car. He fell to his knees and continued retching, until his throat burned and his stomach cramped. When he seemed to have run out of vomit, he shakily rose, and dusted his knees.

He turned to face Zell, and squinted at the bright lights of Esthar City behind him. "I'm fine," he said, but then the city and the stars switched places, and he found himself back on the ground.

"Still fine," he shouted. "Just need a hand."

Zell sighed and walked over, helping him to his feet and muttering about the extra gil the rental company would charge for cleaning the car.

"Hey Zell," Irvine mumbled, leaning on him, "you still can keep a secret, right?"

"I don't know about this one. You're in bad shape."

"'Snothin'. Maybe I ate somethin' bad today, y'know? And then getting hit with my own shot didn't feel too good, either." He swayed on his feet, then fell into the car seat with a heavy thud. "I think I just need some rest. I'll be better by morning."

"I hope so. Otherwise, I'm gonna have to tell Squall."

"You keep those lips zipped, mister! I'll be fine." Irvine settled into his seat and pulled his hat over his eyes, then pointed toward the city. "Driver, to the hotel."

Zell made some objection that he didn't catch. It didn't matter. He _was _tired, and he figured that snagging a quick nap on the way back to the city would help him appear less wobbly in front of Squall. He needed rest, that was all. He would be okay.

He bit his lip and breathed deeply, repeating this to himself and trying to ignore the twitching muscles in his legs.


	3. Chapter 3

"Where were you?" Squall wasted no time in interrogating Irvine and Zell, firing off his first question before Irvine had even walked through the door. "Do you know what time it is? And why is Irvine limping?"

"Ask him," Zell grumbled. He dropped his duffel bag on the floor and flopped face-down onto his bed, indicating he was done fielding questions.

Squall turned toward Irvine, expectantly.

"Well, uh, we were just outside the city, fighting some monsters 'cause I needed a little refresher in battle," Irvine said. When Squall didn't respond, he went on. "The time is twenty-two-something, and I'm limping because I cramped up out there. Gonna be fine, just a few cramps." He grinned, hoping Squall was satisfied with his answers.

No such luck. "Why did you decide to take this 'refresher' so late? The limited visibility at night makes battles even more dangerous. You know that." Squall's frown deepened. "By the way, neither of your other answers hold up: the time is 23:18, and the hole in your pant leg suggests an injury rather than a cramp."

"Oh, all right, I caught an Imp claw. It was just a tiny scratch. Zell patched me up."

"Really." Squall looked at Zell, who groaned into his pillow, anticipating the next question. "Zell, you were junctioned?"

"I had to be, man!" Zell answered, sitting up. "This idiot insisted on going out there, and I knew he was going to get himself – or both of us - killed if I didn't use anything. I took Brothers, since I'll be using them for the hunt, anyway, and a standard stock of spells."

Squall sighed, then rummaged beneath his bed and produced a small metal case. He opened it and scanned the little silver cylinders inside, then pulled one out and handed it to Zell. Zell pressed the cylinder to his forehead, squeezed his eyes shut, and grimaced. When a ring around the cylinder lit up, he handed it back to Squall.

"The two of you have violated several rules tonight – participating in an unauthorized training session, engaging in unauthorized combat, unauthorized junctioning and use of magic, and disregarding the 22:00 curfew." Squall closed the box and slid it back under his bed. "However, since we need a full team on the battlefield during the hunt, I will defer your punishment until we return to Balamb."

"Punishment." Zell sniffed, glaring at Irvine. "What kind of punishment can you give a civilian?"

"Monetary. Before the Estharian government pays either Rinoa or Irvine, I have to give a report on how well they met the requirements of the assignment, including an assessment of their conduct."

"Aww, man." Irvine sat down on his bed, uncertain whether the wave of nausea he felt was the product of his injury or Squall's statement. He took a few slow, even breaths, and concentrated on keeping the remaining contents of his stomach where they belonged.

"I hope it was productive, at least," Squall said after a while.

Irvine started and looked at him. "Huh?"

"Your training. I hope you've gotten back up to speed."

"Oh, yeah, sure. I was a little rusty, but it's not something you forget entirely. Right Zell?"

Zell said nothing, but lay on his bed facing away from the others, stewing over the punishment he had incurred that evening.

"Well …"

"Yeah." Squall stretched and pulled back the sheets on his bed. "Now, go to sleep. We're up at 0600 hours and we move out at 0700. No exceptions."

• • • •

Irvine woke to an incessant banging that turned out to be Selphie pounding on the door.

"Rise and shine!" she shouted. "Up and at 'em, boys! It's time to make Sir Laguna proud!"

When neither Squall nor Zell moved to open the door, she rewarded them with an even louder bang.

"Seriously, open up! You can't all still be asleep in there!"

Irvine covered his face and whimpered. Selphie never seemed to run out of energy, and he couldn't figure out where she got it all. It would be useful knowledge right now, since he hadn't slept very well last night. His nausea had made recurring, if unproductive, visits, and the twitching in his legs resumed as soon as he'd laid down. It seemed to get worse the less he paid attention to it, and several times, it jerked him back from the edge of sleep. When he did manage to fall asleep, however, he was plagued by surreal, feverish dreams, in which the world shifted and bent around him, never solidifying long enough to gain a decent foothold or even to survey the landscape.

It was worse than going through Time Compression. Ulty's magic had nothing on his own imagination.

Zell hissed at him to get up, and when he'd hauled himself out of bed and into the bathroom, he heard someone open the door and Selphie and Rinoa entered.

"Finally!" Selphie said. "What took so long? You weren't all gawking at one of Irvy's naughty magazines, were you? Hey, where _is_ Irvy?"

"Bathroom," Zell answered. He still sounded upset.

"Why did you let him sleep so late?" Rinoa asked. "It's already a quarter past; we won't have time for breakfast."

"Correction – _Irvine _won't have time for breakfast. I'm ready. Let's go."

"Hey," Irvine cried around his toothbrush, and stuck his head out the bathroom door. "Wait up. I'll be out in a jiff!"

"I guess I've got a jiff to spare," Selphie said, plopping down in a chair.

"Well, I don't," said Rinoa. "I have to leave time to get wired up for Odine. Squall, are you ready? Come on."

The hotel room grew quiet, save for Selphie's humming. Irvine finished cleaning up, and when he reached for his clothes, he noticed that his hands were shaking. He pressed them against the sink basin to steady them, but the trembling progressed to his forearms. He cursed and rolled his shoulders, trying to relax his muscles. The shaking continued, however, traveling into his biceps, drawing his arms toward one another. Suddenly, his shoulders spasmed, pulling his arms around his torso in a hugging motion and squeezing hard, forcing the air from his lungs and a startled cry from his throat.

Seconds later, Selphie was knocking on the bathroom door, asking if he was all right.

"Irvy! Irvy, are you okay? What's going on in there? Answer me!"

As his arms relaxed, he made a few feeble sounds, before finding his voice again. "I'm okay," he said. "I nearly dropped something, that's all."

"Sure doesn't sound like all."

"I'm fine, Sefie. I'll be right out."

Whatever that episode was, it left him weak. He finished dressing and opened the door with a smile, however, hoping Selphie wouldn't notice anything different about him.

"Irvy," she said slowly, "what's the matter? You're pale."

"Huh? No, I'm not."

"You don't look too good."

"That's not a very nice thing to say to someone. Especially so early in the morning."

Selphie frowned.

"I didn't sleep well last night. C'mon, Sefie, I've lived in this body for twenty-one years. I think I'd know if something was wrong."

"If you say so." She stared at him a moment longer, then shrugged. "In that case, let's get a move on. I need to eat!"

After breakfast, Irvine stood in a corner of the hotel room and stretched, warming up his muscles to avoid another mysterious spasm. Selphie bounded in through the connecting door, and spread her arms toward the doorway, as if presenting an honored guest. Rinoa said something indistinct, then walked into the room, all decked out in an array of wires and electrodes and miniature monitors clipped to a sturdy belt. Irvine could not hold back a hearty laugh at her appearance.

"Whoa, Rinoa, cool get-up!" he said. "Tell me, how many stations do you get?"

"Shut up, Irvine," Rinoa replied. "I'm not wearing this to make a statement. The only way I could get clearance for combat was to agree to let Dr. Odine monitor me the whole time. This is all his stuff."

"But she _can_ pick up something," Selphie said, turning a dial on one of the monitors all the way to the right. A squeal like microphone feedback came from a tiny speaker on the monitor, followed by a familiar voice.

"Vat? Vat iz it? Iz ze sorceress in trouble?" Dr. Odine shouted.

"Nope, just testing!"

"Vat? Who iz zis?"

"Selphie Tilmitt, SeeD, ID number 41438."

"Oh, it iz you. Stop doing zat!"

"Roger!" Selphie turned the dial back to its original setting. "See? Instant Odine!"

Rinoa rolled her eyes, evidently already tired of being Selphie's new plaything, and walked over to Squall the second Selphie released the dial. "Leviathan for me," she said, pointing to the metal case now on Squall's bed. "Odine will be less suspicious if he thinks I'm in a support role."

"Ooh, ooh, dibs on Quetzal!" Selphie raised her hand and waved it in the air. "And Siren! I wanna mess those monsters _up_!"

Squall handed out the requested cylinders, selecting Ifrit and Bahamut for himself before turning to Zell.

"Brothers, of course." Zell said, grinning. "And Doomtrain, I guess, for the stat protection."

"Irvine," Squall said, "which GF do you want?"

Irvine stared at Squall, then at his friends pressing silver cylinders to their foreheads and wincing. He remembered junctioning for the first time. It was painful, like someone jabbing a long, cold needle into his brain. And there was the wooziness, the unsteadiness, the feeling like his limbs had turned to wet noodles as his body adjusted to the new powers and abilities rushing through it. Not to mention the fuzzy memory. He was not going through all that again, if he could help it. He shook his head and backed away.

"Thanks," he said, "but I'll pass."

"That's not an option."

"Listen, you don't have to worry about me! I'm a deadeye. I don't need any help, especially not from memory-munching mind monsters."

"Irvine, nobody's questioning your skill with a weapon. But we are questioning your resiliency to monster attacks, and your ability to heal yourself and your teammates." Squall frowned. "You don't want a repeat of last night," he added under his breath.

"Think of it as armor," Selphie piped up. "Just an added precaution. And, like armor, you can take it off as soon as we're done. We all do. That's how we use GFs now; only when they're absolutely necessary."

"I don't know," Irvine said. "It's not the most comfortable armor I've worn."

"But it's the absolute best! How about Cerberus? I remember you got along pretty well with him, and he'll make you tons faster on the battlefield." When Irvine said nothing, Selphie turned on the charm. "Please use the GF, Irvy. I don't want you getting hurt. Pretty please? For me?"

"Ahh, who am I to argue with that?" Irvine snatched the cylinder from Squall and held it against his forehead. The surface was cool, but as the energy inside tickled his skin, he tensed. The junctioning was over quickly, and it was as painful as he recalled. He cried out and staggered backwards, bracing himself against the wall until the first wave of power washed over him. He opened his eyes, waited for the room to stop spinning, then grinned and gave a thumbs-up.

Selphie clapped; the others began sorting out spell stocks.

Properly outfitted for battle, the group left the hotel and drove out of the city, across the plains to an area where Estharian scouts had reported a heavy concentration of lunar creatures. The sun was still low in the sky, not yet able to outshine the stars in the west, and cast a golden glow over the harsh landscape. Irvine gazed out the window and tried to ignore the blood thrumming in his ears. The heightened heartrate that came with a speed junction was terrifying, and the adrenaline that accompanied it left him twitchy and easily startled. He looked at the mountains in the distance, and thought he had found something peaceful to focus on.

Until one of the mountains moved.

It slid over, like the back of a cat stretching after a nap, and soon, another mountain rose to reveal the head. Forests became coat markings, caverns became eyes, and a giant stone Torama turned its gaze upon the party, ready to pounce.

Irvine choked back a scream and clapped his hands over his eyes. He pressed down hard with his fingers and rubbed, and when he looked out the window a second time, the mountains were back to normal, steady and serene.

_Not again_.

Nobody seemed to notice. Squall was busy driving, Rinoa reading the map and giving him directions. Zell and Selphie were debating the finer points of monster destruction. Even Angelo, who was usually attuned to the slightest change in her environment, snoozed on the floor, draped over Zell's and Selphie's feet.

Irvine sighed, then settled back in his seat. It was probably for the best. If Squall found out about Irvine's strange symptoms, he wouldn't allow him to participate in the mission. He might even send him back to Deling! Irvine couldn't afford that; no mission meant no paycheck, and no paycheck meant no rent. He had to keep going.

He rubbed his eyes once more, resigned to suffering in silence, then stared straight ahead, studying the headrest of the seat in front of him until they arrived at their destination.

• • • •

Irvine lowered his gun as the Imp hit the ground, and jumped when Zell unexpectedly slapped a hand on his shoulder.

"You're doin' pretty good, man," he said. "I guess last night's training session is paying off."

"Of course. I told you, I'm a quick re-learner." Irvine lifted his hat and wiped his brow. It was barely past nine o'clock, but the sun was already hot. It reflected off the light ground and raised ripples of heat that burned through the soles of Irvine's boots. He shifted from one foot to the other, trying to find relief. Finally, when Squall's back was turned, he cast a Blizzard spell on his feet, and sighed contentedly as the magic went to work.

Squall surveyed the battlefield, and pulled a small notebook from his pocket. "All right," he said, "we have orders for Imp items. Fifteen pairs of wings and fifteen tails. Let's get to work."

"Wings and tails? Yech." Irvine stuck out his tongue. "What in the world would anyone want with wings and tails?"

"Don't know, don't wanna know," Zell replied, pulling his knife from the sheath on his belt. He kicked the Imp closest to him to make sure it was dead, then knelt and began cutting.

"What if they put them in food?"

"Don't even go there, Kinneas."

"Just sayin'. It's a possibility."

"Irvine, if you're not going to help us collect items," Squall said, "make yourself useful and stand guard. Rinoa will join you."

"Yes, sir!" Irvine rested his gun against his shoulder and saluted. He walked a little ways from the group and scanned the plains for potential threats. Rinoa wandered over, Angelo at her heels. She smiled at him, and began her own watch.

"You can't stomach that stuff either, can you?" he asked her.

"Not unless I have to," she replied. "I guess I'll never be SeeD-level tough."

"Don't worry about it. You're plenty tough. You've been through more than any of us here. Besides, 'SeeD-level tough' comes a little too close to barbarism for my liking. It doesn't suit somebody as nice as you."

"Wow, that's actually … really sweet. Now, don't ruin it by making some creepy comment."

"Quit while I'm ahead, huh? Alrighty." They stood in silence for several minutes. "So," Irvine ventured, tilting his head toward the others, "after they take what they need, what do they do with rest of the bodies? I can't imagine Esthar would appreciate heaps of decomposing monsters on their land, even if they are far from the city."

"I heard they used to have Quistis degenerate them, but now they incinerate them. Mega Flare works the best; it's non-elemental, but powerful enough to do the job in one go."

"Listen to you, answering like an expert! There's more SeeD in you than you think."

"Well, maybe a little bit rubbed off on me over the years."

"You don't have to worry about falling behind now."

"I still do. Well, not 'behind;' more like, 'out of line.'" She glanced up at him, then down at the ground, tracing patterns in the dirt with the toe of her boot. "I'm comfortable at Garden, but I know not everyone at Garden is comfortable with me. I know I'm being watched, being scrutinized, and I understand. People are scared I might end up like Edea, and they want to catch that development early, if it happens. So I try really hard not to do anything that might seem suspicious. I try really hard to behave and stay in line."

"Exhausting, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Rinoa chuckled. "Being able to stay with Squall and my friends is worth it, though. Besides, I'd be treated far worse anywhere else, once people found out I was a sorceress."

"Even in Esthar?"

"_Especially_ in Esthar, after what they went through with Adel. So far, the people here have been kind to me, but I'm sure that has a lot to do with Laguna's acceptance of me. Don't forget, they wanted to seal me away before he intervened."

Irvine bit his lip and looked away, unsure how to respond. The air grew heavy around them, and he only realized it wasn't conversational tension when the sky above them darkened, and a whooshing sound came from behind. He turned around to see Bahamut descending, wings outstretched. He shielded his eyes against the bright light of Mega Flare, then studied the aftermath. The ground in front of the rest of the party was charred, and no trace of an Imp remained.

"Efficient," he said.

"It's SeeD. What did you expect?" Rinoa was already on her way back to the group. Irvine hesitated, trying to think of a witty remark; coming up empty, he shrugged and followed her.

They continued to work, seeking out monsters, collecting items, disposing of bodies. They rotated in and out of the front line as necessary, attacking, healing, supporting, stopping only long enough to stretch out injured limbs and take swigs from their canteens. The car grew small in the distance, but never fell out of sight; its light blue frame gleamed in the sun, their only point of reference in this wide desert terrain.

Irvine feared the heat was taking its toll on him when his shoulders became heavy. He pushed them back and straightened up, and the muscles in his back spasmed in protest. He relaxed as quickly as he could, not wanting to go through another round of what had happened this morning, and tried to act casual as the party engaged a Torama and the Imp that had been harassing it.

While the others focused on the Torama, Irvine turned his attention to the Imp. He took a deep breath and raised his gun, struggling hold it steady. His arms tightened, and, as of their own volition, they lowered, dropping the weapon and drawing his shoulders forward. He hunched low, bouncing lightly, his fingertips scraping the ground. Darkness crept into his peripheral vision, growing steadily until his sight was reduced to a tunnel with the Imp at its center.

He heard his teammates' voices, registered their concerned tones, but was unable to make out what they were saying. He stared down the Imp for a few seconds more, then leaned back, roared, and rushed toward it.

It tried to fly, but not soon enough. Irvine closed the distance between them in a few strides, grabbing the Imp and wrapping his arms around it. Its skin was hot and leathery, and the still-conscious part of Irvine's mind wanted to recoil from the touch. Irvine's body was driven by another force, however, and as the Imp wriggled and screeched, he pulled it closer. He felt the monster's teeth pierce the flesh of his arm, and squeezed it harder still. He heard its shrieks, weak and gurgling now, and heard his friends screaming around him. Then, he heard the crunch of bones, and the world went black.


	4. Chapter 4

"He's coming to. Quick, finish it!"

"I'm trying!"

"Try harder!"

Irvine felt as if he was floating up from the bottom of a deep pool. He heard voices around him, but couldn't tell whose they were. His arm ached and throbbed beneath the cool tingle of healing magic, and something hot was burning through the clothes on his back.

"There, it's done!" He recognized Selphie's voice. "Good as new. Okay, Irvy, naptime's over. Wakey-wakey!" She jabbed a finger into his cheek.

Irvine's eyelids might have been made of iron, as heavy and resistant as they were. He grimaced and groaned, finally managing to open them halfway and see Selphie smiling at him, her head twitching, her pupils dilated.

"Whoo-hoo, you're back!"

"Finally," Zell grumbled, standing just behind her. He cast a spell, and Selphie's twitching stopped. Her eyes returned to normal and she crumpled to the ground, holding her head in her hands.

"Zell, warn me next time before you dispel Aura! It leaves me all jelly-jointed."

"You wouldn't have even needed Aura if Rinoa's Recover ability worked."

"It does work," Rinoa shouted from somewhere outside Irvine's field of vision. "It works just fine on normal injuries. There was no way it was fixing _that_, though!"

As Zell, Selphie, and Rinoa bickered, Irvine turned his head to the side and was met with the bulging yellow eyes of an Imp. He cried out and tried to scramble away, but his arm buckled beneath his weight, and he howled as pain arced along his nerves.

"Relax," Squall said, kneeling beside him, "it's dead." He lifted the Imp's arm and let it fall to the ground.

Irvine nodded, then inspected his own arm. His sleeve was shredded, stained with blood that hadn't returned to his body with the healing spell. A faint line ran around his bicep, and the prickling sensation beneath his skin told him his tissue was still stitching itself back together.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I should ask you the same thing. But, objectively speaking, you began acting weird, then crushed an Imp to death. Before it died, however, it managed to nearly sever your arm, and you passed out."

"Ugh …"

"So, any idea what caused that behavior?"

Irvine drew his brows together and blinked. He remembered feeling strange, and losing his peripheral vision. He remembered how the Imp struggled in his grasp, but he couldn't remember why he'd attacked like that at all. He told Squall as much.

"Nothing else?" Squall asked, watching him closely.

"Nothing. You mentioned behavior. How was I acting?"

"What the hell, man? How can you forget?" Zell cut into the conversation. "You were bouncing up and down like an idiot, and dragging your knuckles on the ground. You were acting like some kind of monster!"

"And then you roared," Rinoa added. "It was a weird sound, not one I thought could even come from you. It was kinda scary."

"Not just kinda," Selphie said. "That attack was brutal. I actually felt sorry for the Imp. You should've heard it scream. You really were acting like …" She paused and put a finger to her mouth. "… a monster … wait a minute! The stance, the roar, the attack … that was an Arm Hug! Irvy, you were acting just like a Wendigo!"

_Wendigo_. The word stood out in Irvine's mind. It felt significant, but his thoughts were too foggy to pinpoint why. He squinted in the sunlight and looked up at Selphie, as if she could help him.

"Hey, you're right!" Zell said, glaring at Irvine. "What is this, Kinneas, some kind of sick game? Are you gonna make us guess which monster you're supposed to be? Well, count me out, you freak!"

"What? No, of course not!" Irvine looked at his comrades, at their expressions ranging from skepticism to disgust, and felt his chest tighten. Did they really think he'd do something like that? He always knew that keeping their trust was like walking a tightrope, but he thought that, after all they'd been through together, they'd realize he wasn't a bad guy. He'd never done anything like this before, and since they all seemed so eager to remind him how he hadn't changed, he couldn't understand why they'd think he'd suddenly turn sadistic now.

He _really_ couldn't understand why Selphie would think that.

He swallowed hard. "C'mon, that's ridiculous! I'm a marksman, a ranged fighter. Why in the world would I switch to hand-to-hand combat all of a sudden?"

"Because you haven't been acting right since we got here. Screaming about spiders in the hotel room, puking your guts out in the middle of nowhere. Fallin' all over the place, like you were made of rubber –"

"Irvine." Squall's voice was level, but his eyes were cold and his jaw was set. "What is Zell talking about? Why didn't you report those symptoms?"

"'Cause I didn't think they were part of anything serious," Irvine replied. "I just thought that maybe I ate something bad, or I was exhausted from the trip. I thought they'd go away with some rest. Besides, I can't afford to be sidelined here. I need that paycheck!"

Squall sighed and closed his eyes, and Irvine wondered how high he was counting just to refrain from hitting him. "Can you walk?" he said at last.

"I think so." Irvine put a little weight on his arm. When he discovered that it was fully repaired, he pushed himself off the ground, pausing in a crouching position, then standing slowly. He took a few cautious steps forward, with Squall at his elbow, and when he was confident he wouldn't fall, he nodded and smiled.

Squall responded with a curt nod of his own. "Good. We're heading back."

"What?" Zell cried. "You can't be serious! It's still early."

"Yeah," Selphie added, "what about our quota? We haven't even collected all the Imp parts in the request yet."

"We have the next two weeks to compete the order," Squall said. "Right now, we need to get Irvine back to the city and figure out what's going on with him."

"We should've just left him KO'd," Rinoa muttered, bending down to scratch behind Angelo's ears. Irvine was surprised to see Squall glare at her.

"That would've made things worse. It would have attracted more monsters and slowed us down. We can't handle the dead weight right now."

At the words "dead weight," Irvine hunched his shoulders, wishing he could disappear. That was the last thing he'd wanted to be, and proof that he could no longer keep up with his friends. Proof that he really had been left behind, in more ways than one.

"It's at least a half-hour walk back to the car," Zell said, shielding his eyes and staring at the blue speck in the distance. "Want me to go ahead, and drive it out here?"

"No, we move as group. We've been out here long enough, and taken down enough monsters, to make our presence known and make ourselves targets. Splitting up would only put us all in more danger." Squall paused, and looked around the group. "Zell and I will remain on the offensive," he continued. "Rinoa will be on standby with Recover. Selphie, I need you to stay in Aura status, in case we get into a tight spot. Irvine, just focus on keeping up. Help out if you can, but if you start to feel strange, back off and let us know immediately. Everyone got that?"

When they indicated their agreement, Squall collected his belongings and turned toward the car. "All right, let's move out."

Because of Irvine's condition, it took them more than an hour to reach the car. Along the way, he shuffled and stumbled and slipped back into monster mode three times. The first time, Rinoa was able to patch him up without much trouble; the second, he needed Selphie's Full-Cure spell. The women tried to be patient with him, even joking among themselves that Irvine should have come with reassembly instructions. But when he tried to Arm Hug a Torama, and his innards suddenly became his outards, they were far less gracious. Rinoa revived him before Selphie had readied her spell, and he was forced to watch the whole gory spectacle of his injury replay in reverse. As the skin across his abdomen healed, Rinoa and Selphie each grabbed one of his arms and pulled him to his feet, then dusted off his clothes and nudged him forward as his insides were still arranging themselves.

All the while, the monitors on Rinoa's belt played a faint cacophony of beeps and squeals, increasing in tempo until each sound was indistinguishable from the others, culminating in a sharp crackle, followed by Dr. Odine's voice.

"Vat is going on?" he shouted. "Ze monitors are going crazy! Iz ze sorceress in trouble?"

"No, I'm all right," Rinoa replied.

"I do not believe you. Iz zere anyone else who can answer me?"

With a groan, Squall walked over, pressed the talk button on the monitor, and identified himself. "The sor – er, Rinoa is doing fine," he said. "Another operative's _unpreparedness_ has forced her to remain on constant healing duty." He scowled at Irvine as Dr. Odine reluctantly accepted his answer.

"You'd better be telling ze truth," Dr. Odine said. The monitor crackled again, then resumed its high-pitched whining.

As Zell jogged the rest of the way to the car and Squall stood guard, Rinoa looked up at Irvine. "You really have no idea what's going on?" she asked.

"None at all," Irvine said, wincing at the pain in his abdomen. It hurt just to breathe; talking was torture.

"But what would make you mimic a Wendigo, of all things? There aren't even any out here." She smiled. "You didn't happen to get bitten by one outside of Deling City, did you? You know, like in the old horror movies?"

"No …" _Wendigo. _The word continued to pulse through Irvine's mind. He knew there was something more to it, but between his injuries and his junctions, his brain refused to cooperate. He turned away from Rinoa's inquisitive stare and looked at Selphie instead. Still under an Aura spell, her twitching had intensified. She paced relentlessly, keeping her eyes almost completely shut against the sunlight, and constantly brushed at her dress, even after she'd cleared it of dirt.

"Careful, Selphie," Rinoa said with a chuckle. "You'll wipe the yellow right out of your dress."

_Yellow._ The word jolted Irvine like the recoil from his Bismarck. _Yellow … Wendigo. Yellow … equals … Wendigo …_ Of course! The note that came with the Blue Bullets. Green equals Cockatrice, yellow equals Wendigo. The bullet that hit him the night before, that nasty yellow gel that Zell couldn't get rid of … that was it. It had to be!

In that case … oh, no.

Zell accelerated across the plain, and brought the car to an abrupt halt in front of the rest of the party, raising a cloud of dust. "So, where to?" he asked. "Hotel or hospital?"

Squall frowned and fanned the dust away from his face. "Normally, I'd argue for discretion, and wait for our contracted doctor, but we don't know what we're dealing with here, and how much worse it can get."

"The hospital won't know either," Irvine said, holding his stomach and grinning sheepishly.

"What do you mean?"

"I kinda have the feeling they won't have seen these symptoms before."

"What makes you so sure? You know what caused them?"

"Maybe."

"Talk."

"That injury from last night, it wasn't an Imp. I caught a ricochet. An Iron Giant cast Mighty Guard just as my bullet reached it, and the bullet came back and hit me in the leg." Irvine rubbed the back of his neck. "Thing is, it wasn't an ordinary bullet."

"Go on."

"It was a new kind of ammo. Experimental. I used a few, and it looked like the bullets transformed into monster attacks on impact. There was one for a Funguar, a Cockatrice, a Grendel, and a … Wendigo."

"What is this ammunition? How did you get it? Do you have it on you right now?" Squall was all questions, his hand extended toward Irvine, palm up, waiting to confiscate the mysterious bullets.

"I don't know what it is, exactly. The box called them Blue Bullets. It's back at the hotel."

"That settles it. To the hotel."

Selphie scrambled into the backseat first, curling up by the far door and covering her eyes. Rinoa and Angelo followed. As Irvine waited to get into the car, however, he noticed his vision darkening once more.

"Uh, guys?" he said, his shoulders drawing forward. "A little help, please?"

Zell snorted and looked at him. Then, with coarsest words Irvine had ever heard come out of his mouth, he cast a Sleep spell. Irvine's muscles relaxed, his knees gave way, and he slumped toward the ground, fast asleep even before he landed.

• • • •

Irvine came to in his hotel bed, unable to move his arms or legs. Panicked, he cried out and tried to sit up, but with his abdominal muscles still tender from his run-in with the Torama, he only made it halfway before collapsing back onto the mattress with a grunt. As the remnants of the Sleep spell wore off, he registered Zell's weight on his legs, as well as that of the fabric draped over his torso. His arms were pinned to his sides by a makeshift straightjacket constructed of his own coat, put on him backwards with the sleeves pulled tight and tied behind his back. He wriggled inside of it, and managed to move his arms to a more comfortable position, before weakly asking how he'd ended up like this.

"We figured restraining you during the trip back was the safest option," Squall explained, sitting at the desk along the opposite wall. "For everybody."

"Then how'd I get up here?" Irvine's mouth was dry, and felt like it was stuffed with cotton. "Please don't tell me you carried me."

"Couldn't," Zell answered. "At least not without looking suspicious. We woke you up enough to walk, but you were so groggy, you just kept stumblin' all over. And with your arms pinned, you fell a few times, too."

Irvine groaned. In the silence that followed, he could hear high-pitched voices coming from the next room, and the sound of something being thrown against a wall.

"What's going on over there?" he asked. "Are the ladies okay?"

"Selphie's coming down off of Aura," Squall said. "She was under its effects for so long, the panic stuck with her."

"Will she be all right?"

"As soon as she realizes she isn't in critical danger anymore."

"Can't you, like, put her to sleep, or something, until then?"

"That'll put her system into stasis. It needs to pass naturally." Squall rose and stood at the foot of Irvine's bed. "Now, where are those bullets?"

"Huh?"

"The bullets you told me about. Where are they?"

"Oh, yeah. Nightstand drawer." Irvine bit his lip and felt his stomach lurch. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead as Squall retrieved the box of ammunition, and he knew he was in for major punishment.

"Property of Odine Laboratories," Squall read from the package. "'Sample – for laboratory trials only.' How did you get these?"

"Found 'em at the shopping mall."

Squall stared at him.

"Seriously, I did!" Irvine said. "I was leaving the shopping mall when some lady ran into me, and all our stuff went flying. I guess I picked up the wrong box by mistake."

"You _stole_ them?" Zell turned to look at Irvine. "I thought you said you'd bought 'em!"

"Just said I found them."

"Wait a minute," Squall said. "Zell, you knew about this ammo?"

Zell blanched. "Ah, I only know what Irvine told me. He said it was brand new ammo, and he wanted to know how it worked –"

"This isn't 'brand new;' it's still in trials. Didn't you see that?"

"He never showed me the box!"

"Is this why the two of you went out to train last night?"

Zell shifted under Squall's glare, making sure to put extra weight on Irvine's legs. "He kept pestering me! He said he'd only be a burden on us if I didn't let him practice. And – and then _you _took forever getting back here, so I didn't have any backup, and –"

Another scream from next door, followed by a flurry of barking and banging. Irvine started at the noise, then felt his muscles contract. His eyesight worsened and his arms writhed in his coat. Zell grabbed both of his legs and held them down as another wave of Wendigo behavior wracked Irvine's body. When it was over, Irvine glanced up at Squall through bleary eyes.

Squall sighed. "Whatever. I'll deal with Zell later." He looked at the box in his hand, then went back to the desk and lifted the telephone receiver.

"Yo, who're you callin'?" Zell asked, rubbing his wrists and rolling his shoulders after having exerted himself keeping Irvine in check.

"Quistis. Since these things come from Odine Laboratories, I figure she might know something about them. At the very least, she might be able to put us in touch with someone who does."

"Why would she?" Irvine asked, trying to prop himself up against the headboard, but sliding down into an even more uncomfortable position.

"She works there." Squall finished dialing, and waited. When Quistis answered, he explained the situation. He was quiet for a minute or two, then relief washed over his features. He commented on Selphie's condition as well, remained on the line for another few minutes, thanked Quistis, and ended the call.

"So? Does she know anything?"

"Better. She's on the development team. She got clearance to leave the lab to observe the effects of the bullets on a 'non-standard subject.'"

"Non-standard? What's that mean?"

"No idea, but you should be flattered." Squall approached Irvine, wearing a strange smile Irvine had never seen on him before. "She's coming here just to see _you_." Squall continued, punctuating the sentence by poking Irvine's forehead, a disturbingly familiar gesture from him that indicated how exhausted and exasperated he really was.

Silence descended on the room, but was soon broken by shrill squabbling and a piercing shriek from next door.

"That's it!" Rinoa cried. "I have tried to be gentle, but there's no way of reasoning with you!"

Her outburst was followed by the sounds of a spell being cast, then the return of silence.

Moments later, the connecting door opened, and Rinoa staggered through, her hair disheveled, a semicircular imprint of teeth on her forearm. She tossed two GF cylinders toward Squall, and as he fumbled with them, she flopped into a chair and administered a Cure spell to her arm.

"Don't worry," she said, "Selphie's going to be fine." She inspected her arm, then looked around the room. "By the way, does anyone have a Soft? I'm all out of Esuna."

• • • •

Quistis had always been efficient, and that hadn't changed. She had also always been pretty, but now she had a regal bearing to match, and Irvine couldn't help but gawk as she entered the room. Dressed in a blouse and slacks, with a string of dainty pink pearls at her throat and the strap of a large canvas bag slung across her body, she exuded maturity and authority, and made him feel incredibly young.

While the rest of them had been joking and scheming and killing monsters, Quistis Trepe had grown up.

She greeted everyone warmly, then stepped aside to let another woman, dressed in the traditional Estharian robe and headdress and carrying a large bag of her own, enter.

"This is Ghedrel," Quistis said. "She's a nurse at O. Labs who treats and monitors subjects after testing. She'll be running a quick check on Irvine and Selphie to make sure they have no serious complications."

After being briefed on the situation by Squall, Quistis and Ghedrel turned toward Irvine. Quistis smiled.

"I hear you've had a rough day," she said.

"That's an understatement," Irvine answered.

"Well, I'm sorry to say that we can't make it better immediately, but we _can _keep it from getting worse. How long ago was your last episode of unusual behavior?"

"About forty-five minutes ago," Squall said, before Irvine could make an estimate. "Right before I called you."

"What about frequency?"

"Increasing since this morning."

"Is Irvine junctioned?"

"He was, but Zell unjunctioned him as soon as we returned."

Quistis nodded, then conferred with Ghedrel. They came to an agreement on something, and Ghedrel fished into her bag and produced several long straps made of heavy fabric. She asked Zell to remove Irvine's coat, then began securing the straps to Irvine's wrists and ankles.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he said. "What's this? Restraints?"

"Just a precaution," Ghedrel said, as she and Quistis attached the other ends of the straps to the bedframe. "We don't want you hurting anyone, or yourself."

Irvine chuckled. "You know, I think I had a dream about this, once."

Ghedrel cocked an eyebrow and looked at Quistis, who simply shook her head and retrieved a vial she had placed on the nightstand.

"Really?" Quistis said, drawing some of the liquid from the vial into a syringe. "Did that dream, by any chance, involve you being sedated?"

"No."

"Then welcome to reality." She rolled up Irvine's sleeve, and, under Ghedrel's supervision, injected the liquid into Irvine's arm. Within seconds, Irvine's body relaxed, and the activity around him seemed far away. Quistis removed a small computer from her bag, as well as a tangle of leads and a box of electrodes, and soon, Irvine's electronic accoutrements rivaled those Rinoa had sported that morning.

Irvine hovered in a twilight state, aware of Ghedrel checking his vital signs, pressing cold instruments against his skin, and drawing blood from his other arm, which she tested on a little machine set up on the desk.

"Accounting for sedation, his vitals are normal," she said, then motioned for Quistis to look at the screen of the testing machine. "However, there is still a significant amount of the distillate in his bloodstream. The lab might be able flush it out, but I'd hate to waste the opportunity to collect some data."

"You're right," said Quistis, then asked Squall a series of questions Irvine couldn't hear clearly. Something about contracts, and Laguna. She and Ghedrel spoke again for a few minutes, their tones betraying excitement, before Ghedrel gathered her equipment and asked to see Selphie.

"I'll talk to Dr. Devres as soon as I get back to the lab," Ghedrel said, on her way to the neighboring room, "and have him call you."

"Thank you."

"It's my pleasure. I don't often get to be a part of the unique cases. Usually, by the time I see a subject, they're pretty well worn out." She grinned and winked at Irvine. "Good luck."

Something in Irvine's mind told him to worry, but he couldn't muster the adrenaline to do so.

"Relax," said Quistis, resuming her seat beside his bed, "she's kidding. Now, try to rest, because as soon as Ghedrel gets Selphie sorted out, you and I have quite a lot to discuss."

Irvine nodded and closed his eyes, but sleep would not come. He opened them again when he heard the connecting door open, and saw Ghedrel escort a very wobbly Selphie into the room and onto the far bed. Quistis suggested that Squall take Selphie's place in the other room, and that Zell remain where he was to help her monitor Selphie and Irvine overnight. Before Ghedrel left, she gave Irvine one more injection, and the fuzz began to recede from his brain.

By the time he was fully awake again, the room had gone quiet. Selphie lay on her back and blinked at the ceiling, Zell paged through an issue of _Combat King_, and Quistis was examining the box of Blue Bullets.

"Do you know what these are?" she asked him.

"Blue Bullets?" he said.

"That much is printed on the box. Do you know _why_ they're called Blue Bullets?"

"Uhh …"

"For that one dude, right?" Zell cut in, licking his thumb and turning a page. "Horatio Blue?"

"Horatio Blue?" Quistis pursed her lips. Her eyebrows twitched and Irvine could tell she was struggling not to laugh.

"That's what Irvine said."

"Well, he was wrong. There is no Horatio Blue, at least not to my knowledge. These bullets are named after blue magic. They're another way for blue mages to use different skills."

"That explains it, then," said Irvine. "When that red bullet hit the Iron Giant, it made some kind of laser appear. Zell said it looked like a Funguar's attack."

"That's exactly what it was. Tell me, Irvine, did you experience any discomfort from handling the bullets before using them?"

"Oh, yeah. That yellow one burned my fingers, and then I started seein' all sorts of weird stuff. Is that supposed to happen?"

"To non-blue mages, yes. Your bodies aren't able to process the monster-derived compounds like ours can. Even indirect contact has negative side effects. Think of it as eating a Malboro tentacle; blue mages derive a skill from that, but everyone else becomes violently sick."

Irvine made a face. "Yeah, but eating Malboro tentacles isn't something the average guy would _wanna_ try."

"You'd be surprised."

"So, what's _in _those things, anyway?"

"We refer to them as distillates. They are concentrated substances distilled from various items and creature parts. The Estharian army uses ingestible distillates to teach skills to their blue mages; apparently, I learned my skills the hard way." Quistis smiled. "Anyway, these bullets contain distillates that have heretofore not been able to confer a skill onto a blue mage. However, your case is interesting, and suggests we may need to do more research in that area."

"What's so special about my case?"

"Firstly, that you weren't completely incapacitated. Ingestion of standard distillates by non-blue mages usually keeps them bedridden for days with severe side effects; this distillate entered your bloodstream directly, and yet you were able to remain on your feet."

"Yeah, but not in one piece," Selphie mumbled, turning onto her side and looking at Irvine. "Do you know how long intestines are, Irvy?"

Irvine gave a dry laugh. "No, I'm afraid I didn't think to measure them," he said. "Did you?"

"Very funny."

Quistis' eyes darted from Irvine to Selphie and back. Then, with a strained grin, she cleared her throat and continued. "Secondly, your actions while under the influence of the distillate were not what we at O. Labs had anticipated. As you saw with the bullets you successfully used, interaction with the distillate mimics only the _effects_ of the attack, not the physical attack itself."

Irvine frowned. "I don't follow."

"Based on our data, when you caught the ricochet, you should have been subjected to damage consistent with a Wendigo's Arm Hug attack: pressure, broken bones, internal bleeding. Nothing in our research indicates that you would have been able to _use _the skill. It might be a result specific to humans, or even to your personal biological makeup. The only way to find out is to run some tests in the lab."

"I'm not sure I like what you're implying."

"Then I suggest you warm up to the idea. Ghedrel is approaching the head of blue magic research at O. Labs to request buying out your contract here."

"Buying out? No, I'm here to fight, not to be some kind of lab rat!"

"But you can't fight," Zell said. "Last night was ridiculous, and this morning was a disaster. Squall will sideline you in a heartbeat once he hears what Quistis just told you."

"Zell's right," Quistis said. "You're in no condition to fight. Even if you begin to feel better tomorrow, the distillate will remain in your system for at least several more days, and you can't be sure your symptoms won't come back. And if you can't fight, you won't get paid. At least this way, you will still be compensated for your time in Esthar, as well as repaying Odine Laboratories for the use of stolen goods."

Irvine winced.

"You didn't think we'd let you go without securing some form of recompense, did you?" When Irvine still didn't respond, Quistis patted his arm. "Don't worry, we'll take good care of you. Besides, you're quite the man of mystery at the moment; I'm sure there are more than a few people at O. Labs who will find you absolutely intriguing."

That was the right button to push. Damn, Quistis knew him too well. He tried to object, but she had already stoked the flames of possibility in his brain, the chance at fame and popularity and enigmatic appeal. In spite of his reservations, a smile spread across his face, and remained there even as his body began to contort in another bout of Wendigo mimicry.

• • • •

He had fallen asleep after the episode, worn out by the events of the afternoon. When he woke, the lights were on in the room and the sky outside was a deep purple.

"Welcome back," said Quistis, typing away on her computer. "That attack you suffered was intense. Your brain activity was all over the place. Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Irvine said, yawning. "A little sore, though. And really hungry."

"Well, it is past dinnertime." She glanced at Selphie and Zell. "What do you say, shall we order something?"

"You bet!" Zell bounced off his bed and retrieved the room service menu from the desk.

"While you decide, I'll see if Squall and Rinoa would like something, too." Quistis walked to the door separating the rooms and rapped on it lightly. "Are you two decent in there?" she called, smiling.

When no one answered, her smile faded. She tried the doorknob, found it unlocked, and peered into the room. No light came through the doorway, and Quistis had to wait for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. "Oh," she said, finally, then closed the door gently.

"Ah-ha!" Irvine laughed, wide awake now. "What's the matter, Quisty, stumble upon something risqué? A tangle of bedsheets, perhaps?"

"No. They aren't in the bed."

"Whoa-ho!"

"Not like that! Rinoa's slumped over the table, snoring and drooling. Squall's passed out in the chair by the window, still wearing one of his boots. The only one on the bed is Angelo." She sat down again and accepted the menu from Zell. "You really put those two through the wringer today."

"Not just them," Selphie groaned, crawling off her bed and draping herself across the foot of Zell's. "I used to like Aura magic before today. I think from now on, I'll take my lumps and get my Limit Break the old-fashioned way."

"Yeah, man," Zell added, rubbing his back, "and trying to keep this guy down during his freak-outs really threw my back out of whack."

Quistis sighed. "It looks like you were quite the troublemaker today, Irvine, for yourself and everyone around you. Hopefully, you'll redeem yourself at O. Labs."

"So, the request was approved?" Irvine asked.

"Yes, and the lab will be sending a crew to pick you up in the morning. I'll stay with you until then." She passed the menu to Selphie. "Zell and Selphie can help me monitor you, and let me know if anything changes."

"Whoo-hoo, Quisty's staying! It'll be like old times!" Selphie sat up and perused the menu. "Sorry I didn't bring any nail polish, though," she added, and she and Quistis laughed at whatever inside joke that referred to.

Irvine made his selection from the menu, and when the food arrived, Quistis released the restraints on his wrists so he could eat. They spent the rest of the evening talking, the tension of the day dissipating in conversation and memories, the tenuous connection between them strengthening once more, if only for a matter of hours.

It felt good to talk so easily and freely with his friends, and, for the first time in days, Irvine's heart felt light. He didn't want the night to end, didn't want everyone to go their separate ways again. But when the alarm clock buzzed next to his ear, and the others awoke, the bridges between them had crumbled, and the chasm felt wider and colder than before.

At a quarter past six, Squall and Rinoa joined Zell and Selphie, looking worse for the wear they'd suffered the day before. Rinoa fumbled with her monitors and yawned, and Squall seemed to be a step behind in preparing the party for battle. They bid Irvine farewell – rather stiffly, he thought – and wished him luck, then left him alone with Quistis, to await transport to the lab.

Quistis, too, was much quieter than she'd been the night before, as she checked Irvine's stats and prepared for departure. They made small talk as they waited, but never got a full conversation going, and Irvine was actually relieved when the employees from Odine Laboratories arrived to fetch him.

His relief gave way to apprehension once he was secured in the back of the car, however, and he fidgeted beneath his seatbelt. Quistis sat next to him, and admonished him to sit still; then, smiling, she pulled a small square of paper from her bag and handed it to him. The paper had been torn from the notepad in the hotel room and folded many times, and his name was written on one side in Selphie's hand. When Irvine finally pried the note open, he found a simple drawing of a chocobo in awkward flight, carrying two people on its back: a girl with hair flipped up at the ends and a guy in a cowboy hat.

_Whoo-hoo, we're flying!_ Selphie had scribbled along the top of the page. Then below, _Hey Irvy, you listen to Quisty and behave yourself at O. Labs! Get better soon. We still have sooo many adventures ahead! Good luck!_

Irvine laughed. "That Sefie," he said. "She always knows how to cheer me up."

"It's nice to have someone in your corner," Quistis said, "who stays there, no matter what. Hold onto that note; I think it's going to make these next few weeks a lot easier."

Irvine didn't like the sound of that, but he was not eager to know more. He folded the note and looked out the window, and was startled when Quistis tapped his shoulder and motioned to a building on the opposite side of the skyway.

"We're here," she said. "Welcome to Odine Laboratories."


	5. Chapter 5

The Odine Laboratories building was unmarked, identical to those around it. Irvine wondered how Quistis found her way to work every day. He looked at the structure as the driver pulled up to a side entrance, then frowned when two men with an empty transport chair stepped forward to meet the car.

"I can walk," Irvine protested, as the driver opened his door and motioned toward the chair.

"Security and convenience, sir," the driver said, unfastening Irvine's seatbelt, then taking him by the elbow and helping him out of the car. Quistis, meanwhile, greeted the orderlies and filled out a form on a clipboard. She quietly told Irvine to sit still as one of the men fastened a new set of restraints on him; then, handing back the clipboard, she led the way into the building.

Odine Laboratories was pristine and even more practical on the inside, all steel and glass, cold and sterile. Irvine studied the reflections on the gleaming tile floor, glancing up now and then to see primarily white-robed people gliding through corridors and lobbies, interspersed with a handful of others in western-style clothing. He wondered whether those were visitors or workers, and whether reopened trade relations were beginning to influence the famously uniform Esthar.

After what felt like a half-hour journey, Irvine was wheeled into what appeared to be a small hospital room with a bed, a small closet, some chairs and a couch, and an assortment of monitors. A window ran the length of one wall, from the ceiling halfway to the floor, flooding the room with sunlight. Irvine found this element of nature in an otherwise completely artificial environment oddly reassuring, and he relaxed as the orderlies undid his restraints and helped him to his feet.

His serenity was short-lived, however, shaken when Quistis moved toward the door.

"I'm going to let Dr. Devres know we've arrived," she said, "and get the specifics of your contract. I'll be back soon."

"You're leaving me?" Suddenly, sunlight or no, the prospect of being alone in a room with a pair of Estharians who had no personal stake in his well-being troubled Irvine.

"Not for long. Don't worry, nobody's going to do any testing on you yet. These gentlemen are just going to help you get settled. Besides, you don't want me in the room while you change into your medical gown."

Despite his discomfort, Irvine smirked. "Maybe not, but you don't know what you're missing, Quisty."

"You're right, I don't. Judging from your tendency toward behavior that smacks of overcompensation, though, I'd wager, not a lot." She disappeared into the hallway.

One of the orderlies groaned, and the other snickered. "Sorry, buddy," he said, taking Irvine's hat. "You walked right into that one."

The orderlies were efficient, helping Irvine change and arranging him in the hospital bed. They drew a wide band across his thighs and fastened it beneath the bed to prevent him from leaving, then gathered his belongings into large clear bags. As they were placing the bags into the closet, Irvine remembered Selphie's note in the pocket of his pants, and asked if they could retrieve it for him.

"Letter from your sweetheart?" an orderly asked as he handed over the note.

"Yeah, something like that," Irvine lied.

"Keep it safe," he said, then took up his post on one side of the doorway, talking quietly with his coworker until Quistis returned, a sheaf of papers in her hand. She dismissed them with a smile, and sat down beside Irvine's bed.

"So," she said, "what horrible things did they do to you while I was gone?"

"Okay, okay, maybe I overreacted a little." Irvine leaned back against his pillow. "You can't blame me. I'm in a strange place surrounded by strange people who have a history of performing strange experiments. Speaking of, I never thought you'd end up working for kooky old Doc Odine."

"I don't."

"Then what is this place?"

"An unfortunately-named institution. Dr. Odine put up the majority of the funds to get it started, and demanded it be named after him in return. Other than that, Odine Laboratories is an independent entity, responsible for much of Esthar's self-sufficiency." She flipped through the papers. "I'll get you a pamphlet, so you can read up on it in your spare time."

"Nah, I believe you. So, did you find out about my contract? What do I have to do to get that sweet paycheck?"

"Nothing, really. Your role is purely passive." Quistis moved a page to the top of the pile and read from it. "Dr. Devres, the head of blue magic research here at O. Labs, has authorized a series of four tests, with a two-day recovery period between each test. You will remain here for one additional week afterward, during which we will remove any remaining distillates from your system and ensure that you are healthy enough to return to your normal lifestyle."

"An extra week? Paid?"

Quistis nodded.

"Wow! Okay, what's the catch? What do I have to do to earn that extra money?"

"Again, nothing. In fact, you will remain under anesthesia until all traces of distillate are gone from your system. Essentially, you're being paid to sleep." One corner of her mouth lifted. "That is, assuming you wake up."

"What?"

Quistis chuckled. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist. You'll be fine."

"I hope so." Irvine looked out the window and realized that if he sat up straight, he could see the tops of trees, and more of the building beyond. A courtyard, perhaps? He wondered whether the weather was still mild enough for people to enjoy their breaks outdoors. It sure hadn't felt like it yesterday.

"Trust me."

Irvine turned to face Quistis again, and was taken aback by her intense stare.

"We're all professionals here," she continued, "and as much as we love gathering data, we take the safety of our subjects seriously. Furthermore, you're my personal project now – Dr. Devres' orders – so I will make doubly sure that you suffer no permanent damage."

"No _permanent_ damage? How about no damage at all?"

Quistis shrugged. "The tests are going to hurt. Compared to what we went through four years ago, however, they're nothing. I'm confident you can handle them."

Irvine smiled. "I appreciate that, Quisty. So, when do these tests begin?"

"Tomorrow morning. I suggest you get plenty of rest tonight, and take an early supper. You are restricted to nothing but water from 20:00 tonight until the the completion of your first test. I will be here to prepare you for testing shortly after 08:00 tomorrow." She grinned. "_Relax_. You're in a controlled environment, now. None of these tests are going to be nearly as traumatic as what you've already endured."

Irvine nodded, but remained unconvinced. He spent the rest of the day in boredom, staring out the window and studying the layout of his room. Even when he discovered the remote to control the monitor on the wall across from him, he found nothing by dry, informational programming on each channel. Quistis stopped by throughout the day to check on him, and he took her up on her earlier offer for an Odine Laboratories brochure, which he read three times over as the afternoon financial report played in the background.

He thought about the others – where they were, which monsters they were fighting, whether or not they were still angry with him. He thought about Selphie, in particular. Though the note she gave him suggested she'd forgiven him, he felt guilty for putting her through such an ordeal the day before. The one person he'd _never _want to hurt, or even inconvenience, Selphie had nonetheless borne the bulk of the trouble he'd caused everyone, and still managed to wake up smiling today.

Selphie was amazing. Her smile lit up his world. And what did he give her in return, but constant annoyance?

When would he stop messing up?

He groaned and slunk low into his bed, watching the light outside grow golden, then gray. Quistis came by once more on her way home, and sat with him as he finished his dinner. She tried to reassure him, but her words were less effective now than they'd been that morning. After she left, he flipped through the channels once more, then turned toward the darkened window and stared at his reflection until he fell asleep.

• • • •

"We're going to start you off with the distillate from one of our tested and approved Blue Bullets," Quistis said, raising Irvine's bed into a seated position before turning back to the stainless steel tray she'd wheeled in with her. The tray held one Blue Bullet with an ice-blue gel inside, a series of syringes and vials, and a small pile of disinfectant swabs.

"Glacial Eye," Quistis went on. "The effect of this bullet on its target is similar to that of a Blizzara spell."

"A spell?" Irvine frowned. "How am I supposed to use magic if I'm not junctioned?"

"That's exactly what we're going to test. A non-blue mage should theoretically not be able to use any skill from this distillate; if you are able to replicate the skill, we'll need to reevaluate the basis of the Blue Bullet's development, as well as test you for latent blue magic ability."

"And if it does nothing?"

"As I said, that's the expected outcome. In that case, we will remove as much of the distillate from your system as possible, and allow you to recover for the next round of testing." She pulled on a pair of gloves, removed one end of the Blue Bullet cartridge, and drew the distillate into a syringe.

"What about side effects?" Irvine asked.

"We can help you manage them. Let us know whenever you experience discomfort or hallucinations. Tell us what is happening, as well as you can, and we can administer a counteractant." She capped the syringe and moved on to filling the rest from different vials.

Irvine glanced at the clock. Half-past eight. Selphie and the others were knee-deep in monster items by now, and here he sat, starving, staring at painful-looking syringes, and waiting for his suffering to begin. When Quistis left the tray behind and began entering data from his monitors into the computer, he growled and flopped back against the pillow.

"What's the matter?" she asked, not looking away from the screen.

"This waiting is torture," Irvine replied. "I know I'm in for a boatload of pain today, so why don't we just get it started, already?"

"I'm waiting on word from downstairs. The technicians and other researchers are preparing the blue mage testing chamber on the fifth floor. Once they're ready, I'll administer the distillate and transport you there." She clicked the mouse and entered more data. "It won't be long, now. Please try to relax."

"Easy for you to say. You're not about get all pukey and see a bunch of weird stuff."

"I understand, but getting agitated is only going to make the side effects worse. Why don't you try –" She was interrupted by a high-pitched ringing sound. Pulling a small phone from her pocket, she answered it, nodded, and smiled at Irvine.

"That was the fifth floor," she said after hanging up. "They're ready." She donned another pair of gloves and tore open one of the disinfectant swabs. She wiped down the inside of Irvine's elbow, then retrieved the syringe full of distillate and injected it into his vein. Irvine bit his lip as the needle broke the skin, and cursed quietly as its contents seared through his arm.

He stared at the far wall for several minutes afterward, until the first wave of nausea hit him. His dinner a distant memory, he heaved unproductively into an empty bin Quistis provided, then accepted a small sublingual pill from her. As his stomach calmed down, he heard a knock at he door, then turned to see two shadowy figures enter the room. They moved strangely, limbs floating free of their bodies, and spoke in garbled tones as if Irvine was listening to them from underwater. They stumbled toward his bed and he cried out and fought when one of them grabbed his arm. The shadow creatures made surprised noises and tried again, and somewhere in the chaos, Irvine heard Quistis telling him to settle down, asking him what was wrong.

"They've got me!" Irvine shouted, screwing his eyes shut against the monstrosities, trying to concentrate on Quistis' voice. "They've got me, Quisty, help! Can't you see them? Why won't you do anything?"

Quistis responded by asking him to describe "them."

"Shadow-people! Their hands are _cold_! Quisty!" Irvine struggled a moment longer, then opened one eye to look at the creatures, only to see the orderlies from yesterday in their place. Quistis stood behind them, syringe at the ready.

"Irvine," she said, "are you okay? Do you still see the 'shadow-people?'"

"No …" Irvine exhaled and let his body fall limp. Just a hallucination. Strange, even though he'd been expecting it, it had been no less terrifying than those that had snuck up on him before.

He offered no resistance as the orderlies placed him in a transport chair and fastened the restraints, and he noticed no details as they traveled down hallways and into elevators and finally, into a room packed with people wearing white robes and curious expressions. He staggered out of the chair and silently followed Quistis into a white-tiled chamber, barely registering a row of machines bolted to the ceiling.

"This is the blue mage testing chamber," Quistis explained, speaking slowly and placing a hand on his shoulder to draw his attention to her. "The equipment above us is controlled via a panel in the room next door, and will display a hologram of a monster to simulate a battle. There is no danger and no pain involved. Simply treat the hologram as you would a target. Since you don't have your weapon, your only offensive option is the skill derived from the distillate, if you are able to use it. Do you understand?"

Irvine nodded, feeling his heartrate calm somewhat with Quistis' explanation.

"Good. I'll stay with you, in case you suffer more side effects. Let me know if anything feels off, okay?"

Another nod. Irvine tried to swallow, but his mouth and throat were dry.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes," he managed to rasp, then tensed again as the lights dimmed and the machines above him cast a flickering image of a Grendel into the room.

Irvine watched the hologram, feeling uneasy, though he knew it couldn't hurt him. The projected Grendel swayed and breathed, then lunged forward. Irvine shouted and stumbled backward, feeling Quistis grab his elbow and pull him back to his feet. Adrenaline coursed through his body now, his limbs hot and his fingertips tingling. The Grendel lunged again, and in response, Irvine stepped forward. His vision darkened at the edges, focusing on the monster. He felt something stirring in his chest, and a tickle in his brain, as if he were preparing a spell. He took a deep breath, raised his arm across his face, then gestured outward.

Nothing.

He tried again, with the same result. It was as if he'd been silenced. The tickle in his brain intensified, and he tried once more, screaming with effort and frustration, before crumpling to the ground. The lights came on around him, the Grendel disappeared, and he heard Quistis ask if he was all right moments before he passed out.

• • • •

"I hate to break it to you," Quistis said later that afternoon, watching Irvine tuck into his third lunch tray, "but you're not a blue mage."

"Fine by me," Irvine said, and swallowed a mouthful of food. "I don't wanna have to take pills and eat tentacles. And I definitely don't want your guys' Bad Breath skill. Damn, Quisty, how _do_ you manage that? You cleared entire battlefields with your stench! I heard even Zell got KO'd by it, once."

"He should've ducked." Quistis smiled. "As for how I manage it, I simply don't use it anymore. Besides, I don't remember anybody complaining on the occasions where it saved our hides."

"Doesn't mean we enjoyed it." Irvine licked his fork.

"Back to the topic at hand. You're not a blue mage, but you're a carrier."

"Huh?"

"The ability to use blue magic is the result of a recessive genotype, the same principle that determines the occurrence of blue eyes, for example." Quistis pulled a paper from a folder lying in her lap and handed it to Irvine. "After your test today, I had the med team draw some blood to help understand your different reactions to the distillates you've come in contact with, and the sample revealed you have a heterozygous genotype in regard to blue magic."

Irvine looked at the paper. The top section had a series of small, oblong smudges above letters that made no sense to him. The lower portion explained what Quistis was talking about, and included several diagrams showing all possible combinations of the blue magic alleles. "Is this information significant?" he asked.

"Possibly. You are, for lack of a better term, 'half' a blue mage. That might have influenced your reaction to the distillates, especially when the skill conferred was physical rather than magical. If that's the case, we need to take a step back and reevaluate Blue Bullets' utility on the battlefield, at least where human targets are concerned."

"Glad I could help."

"Yes, so am I. We never expected that a human impacted by a Blue Bullet would have a different reaction than a monster. I'm relieved to discover this before our blue mages found themselves facing down an army of hallucinating Wendigo impersonators." Quistis reclaimed the paper. "But we can't be sure of anything at this point. Not until we replicate the process with other subjects."

"Heh, good luck finding volunteers."

"Luck won't be necessary."

That sounded ominous. Irvine decided he'd rather not know what she meant, and focused on finishing his lunch.

When he was done, Quistis took his tray and headed toward the door. "I'm going to gather my belongings from downstairs, then return to monitor you for the rest of my shift. Do you need me to get you anything along the way?"

"Yeah, see if they'll spring for another one of those desserts." Irvine pointed to a scraped-clean cup of a sweet custard sitting on the tray. "Those things are awesome!"

Quistis rolled her eyes, but chuckled, and promised to ask as she stepped into the hallway.

• • • •

Irvine slept better that night than he had in a long time. With most of the distillate out of his system, he had no nightmares or hallucinations. He couldn't recall any regular dreams, either, but he was willing to pay that price for rest. When he woke, the sky outside his window was already light blue, and he drifted in a state of languorous half-sleep until Quistis came in and flung several magazines onto his chest.

"Oof! Good morning to you, too." He sat up and looked at the titles. There was _Weapons Monthly_, of course, as well as _Firearms International_, _Modern Man Quarterly_, and even an issue of the newly-relaunched _Occult Fan_.

"I'm sorry if they're not your usual fare," Quistis said, setting her bag on the couch and approaching the monitors. "I only know of one magazine you like, and I am _not_ buying that."

"Oh, c'mon, Quisty. You can buy it at the kiosks. They won't judge."

"That's not the only reason. Looking at those photos is sure to affect your readings."

"You underestimate how excited I get about guns." Irvine thumbed through _Weapons Monthly_. "These are great. Thanks, Quisty!"

"You're welcome, but I did it as much for myself as for you. You're extremely talkative when you get bored."

"What else is there to do?" Irvine pouted. "And I'm hurt. I didn't think you'd mind catching up with an old friend."

Quistis began entering data into the computer. "I don't mind conversing with you. But when you start wondering aloud what the technical name is for the color of the skyways, my patience wears thin."

"Fair enough. So, what's on the agenda today?"

"Recovery for you, monitoring for me." She peered at the computer screen, then turned to Irvine with a smile. "You seem to be doing very well. No symptoms overnight?"

"None at all!"

"Great! Breakfast service will begin shortly." She sat on the couch and pulled a large book and notepad from her bag. "Let me know if you need anything."

Irvine looked at the book, then at Quistis scribbling down notes. "A textbook?" he asked. "Didn't you get enough of those at Garden?"

"Not nearly," Quistis answered. "I was hired here on the strength of a project I completed during a sabbatical. In order to keep my position, I have to earn a degree in the study of blue magic."

"That's a thing?"

"It is. Esthar has been actively researching blue magic for decades, if not longer. It's a recognized and respected branch of scientific study here, and their accumulated knowledge is beyond impressive."

"Wow, sounds like you and Esthar are a perfect fit!"

"So far, we have been." Quistis smiled, a little dreamily, Irvine noticed.

He snickered. "You and your Estharian boyfriend, too, I assume. In a different sense of the word."

She glared at him, her cold expression a contrast to the blush creeping into her cheeks.

"All right, all right, I crossed a line. Back to my magazine." Still grinning, he flipped to the firearms section of _Weapons Monthly_, and snuck a glance at Quistis. Though she had returned to reading, her ears remained red. Still easily riled. A new home and fancy new job aside, she really hadn't changed that much at all.

Irvine's two days of recovery passed in this fashion, with Quistis alternating between her schoolwork and her lab duties, and Irvine alternating between reading and making idle conversation. They caught up with each other's lives, and reminisced about their time together, both at the orphanage – the little of it they could recall – and as comrades in arms. They laughed at funny memories and commiserated over past difficulties. It was so familiar, so comfortable, that Irvine abandoned his pretenses, and realized only after the fact that he had just blurted out how much Selphie meant to him.

Quistis grinned. "That's hardly a secret," she said. "She told me your first interaction with her consisted of flirting."

"Yeah, but I flirted with lots of girls then." He looked out the window and willed his own blush to disappear.

"So, what makes Selphie different?"

Irvine thought for a moment. "I-I'm not sure. She's a great girl, always so happy and energetic. She's always up for anything, ready to charge in where no one's been before. But then, so are a lot of other people … Maybe it's her smile, maybe it's … maybe it's just _her_."

Quistis watched him, expectantly.

"She's just so _inspiring_," Irvine continued. "Ever since we were little, she was so confident, in herself, and in me. She knew I could keep up with her even when I didn't, and she got me to do things I never thought I could. Like in the Ragnarok … there she was, messin' with buttons and levers and not listening to me worry, and before you knew it, we were flying. _Flying_, at a time when everybody seemed to have given up on that dream. Nothing's impossible for her. She's a superwoman.

"And she's still not too proud to call me her friend."

"That was lovely," Quistis said. "I agree, Selphie does border on superhuman, even without junctions, and we really should be grateful that she deigns to associate with us 'mere mortals.'"

"Yeah, but what can I give her in return? What do you do to impress someone who can do everything?" He sighed. "You know, Quisty, I'm all talk. I flirt and I boast, but I gotta admit, I've got a streak of chicken in me a mile wide. I run away from things that scare me, even when they're things – or people – I really like. Even when it's Sefie. I get scared, I run. I always run."

"You're not running from this."

"Only 'cause you won't let me."

"Selphie doesn't need to hear it that way."

A smile slowly spread across Irvine's face. "Quisty … helping me out? You're gonna make me look tough?"

She laughed. "Oh, goodness, no! I think that's impossible. But I _can_ help you look responsible."

"All right!"

"But only in this instance. You're going to have to do your own work once you leave." She gathered her books and slid them back into her bag. "If you want to impress Selphie, if you want to show her you're dependable, then you have _be _dependable. Stop running. Take some time and find out who Irvine Kinneas _really _is. Maybe there's a bit of a superman in him, too."

"Aww, Quisty …"

"Though I highly doubt it." She dodged the empty paper cup Irvine flung at her. "But in all seriousness, it wouldn't hurt you to grow up a little. You can't keep getting into messes like this. Things could have gone very badly for you, Irvine."

"I know."

"Don't worry, I'm done lecturing you. Just think about it, okay?" She checked his monitors once more, input the data, then slung her bag across her body. "I'll be back in the morning to prep you for testing. Sleep well."

Irvine waved to her, then picked Selphie's note off the nightstand and unfolded it. As he looked at the couple riding the chocobo, Quistis' words rattled in his brain. _Grow up. _What did that mean? Selphie still acted like a kid; nobody told _her_ to grow up. Maybe because she was actually efficient despite being silly. How did she manage that?

Simple. She was a superwoman.

As a regular guy, Irvine would have to do it the hard way. _Find out who Irvine Kinneas _really _is._ He stared at his reflection in the window, and felt a tiny, cold knot of fear form in his stomach, the one thing he hadn't told Quistis, the one feeling he'd struggled with most of his life.

What if Irvine Kinneas just wasn't _enough_?


	6. Chapter 6

"Seriously, Quisty, a _Geezard_?" Irvine scowled at her from the bed, his limbs still wobbly, his ego stinging. "Couldn't you have given me something with a scrap of dignity?"

"It was a precaution," Quistis said. "We already know that you can use physical skills derived from distillates, and the Geezard is a relatively harmless creature with predominantly physical attacks."

"Humiliating attacks. How'd you like to space out and then come to gnawing on the head of a training dummy?"

Quistis made an odd choking sound and turned toward the computer. "That was definitely a unique sight. On the bright side, this is an off day for many employees, so you only had a fraction of the audience you had for your first test."

"You were already one person too many for that."

"Don't worry about it. Yes, you're a curiosity for many people here at O. Labs, and they will probably talk about you for a few days. But they're scientists and researchers, and soon enough, something else will catch their attention, and they'll forget all about you." She looked at him, but Irvine spared her only sidelong glances, and frowned at the monitor on the wall across from him.

Quistis sighed. "And I promise to select distillates from more noble creatures for your remaining tests," she said.

"Thank you." Irvine leaned back and yawned. The test had drained him of energy, and what little he had left, he had just spent arguing with Quistis. He rummaged around for a magazine, and was rereading an article on mysterious creatures lurking in the ruins of the Galbadian Missile Base for what felt like the tenth time when an orderly entered with his lunch tray. Irvine perked up and dug in, responding only with a grunt and a nod when Quistis excused herself to make some phone calls.

She must have taken her own lunch break, as well, because she returned about forty minutes later.

"You got your wish," she said, sitting on the couch. "Only respectable creatures from here on. The more powerful the creature, however, the stronger the distillate's effects will be, so I suggest you get as much rest as possible over the next few days. No late-night programs, or reading by the light from the hallway."

"You know about that? Who told?"

"Just because I'm not here doesn't mean that you're not still being monitored. Anyway, as I was saying, if you want to use distillates from powerful creatures, you need to make sure both your mind and body are sharp."

"Got it." Irvine held up his empty tray. "In the meantime, think you can get them to send another one of these? Food is the best way to keep myself sharp!"

• • • •

Irvine tried to sleep as late as possible on test day, mainly in an effort to ward off the hunger pains that characterized his fasting period. Having gone to sleep far too early the night before, however – for the same reason – he found himself alternately thumbing through magazines and flipping through channels for over an hour before Quistis arrived.

He answered her greeting with an indistinct grumble, and groaned when he saw the now-familiar tray loaded with vials and syringes. Upon closer inspection, though, he noticed something was missing: the Blue Bullet, itself.

"What's this?" he asked, pointing out the apparent oversight. "Did I earn a reprieve? For my stellar behavior, perhaps?"

"I'm afraid not. I'm just waiting for the distillates to arrive."

"Whoa, special stuff?"

"In a way. They've been tested and certified safe for blue mages, but are still going through the approval process for use in projectiles. We didn't have any extra on hand, so I requested a small batch for this study."

"Just for me? Watch out, Quisty, this sort of treatment can go to a guy's head!"

"The effects of the distillates will, definitely." Quistis checked his vital signs. "These are far more powerful than the others you've tried so far, so we'll have to monitor you more closely. You're also going to have to be completely forthcoming about what you experience, even if you don't think it's serious at the moment."

"You're making me kinda nervous, Quisty. Are you sure these are safe?"

"Absolutely." She noticed his expression and smiled. "Don't worry, I haven't gone full mad scientist … yet. I've cleared the use of these distillates with my superiors, and the med team is prepared to help in the case your symptoms become overwhelming."

That was little reassurance, but the mental image of Quistis as a deranged scientist was enough to make Irvine chuckle. He tried to imagine what kind of monsters she'd create, and whether she'd enlist the help of her Garden friends to bring her experiments to life. Zell would likely be a subject on his own, and Selphie could very well serve as an energy source.

It was a ridiculous daydream, but it kept Irvine's anxiety at bay. He was so wrapped up in it, that he jumped when someone knocked on the doorframe. He turned and saw a dark-haired man in a shirt and slacks standing there, holding a clipboard and two small boxes, and wearing a badge that clearly marked him as a visitor.

"Brought your bullets," he said, grinning and handing the boxes to Quistis. "Torama's on top, Blue Dragon on the bottom."

"Thank you," Quistis replied. "I'm sorry it was such short notice."

"It was no problem. Besides, it gives me an excuse to finally see this case for myself. Dr. Devres suggested I stick around to observe the testing, and he granted permission to speak with the subject. He's lucid, right?"

"Yes, he is." Quistis motioned the man inside, and he walked up to Irvine's bed, pulling a chair beside it and sitting down.

"So," he said, "how's the intrepid Horatio Blue doing?"

Irvine blinked at him. "Horatio Blue?"

Quistis laughed. "I'm sorry, Irvine, I had to tell him. It was too funny."

"I take it you're not comfortable with that name," the man said, looking at his clipboard, "Mr. Kinneas. May I call you Irvine, though?"

"Yeah, of course." Irvine grinned, wondering who this man was, and whether he'd seen him before and simply forgotten. "I'm just not used to hearing the other name, and my brain's all fuzzy from testing – and _hunger_ – so half the time I can't even remember who Horatio is supposed to be."

"Understood." The man extended his hand. "I'm Argider Cato. I'm a librarian and a blue magic researcher. I specialize in distillates research, and often work with Odine Laboratories in testing and development. In fact, that box of ammunition you intercepted in the shopping mall was fresh from my lab at the library."

Irvine froze mid-handshake, his arm going limp. "Oh. Heh. I'm really sorry about that, you know."

"I'm sure you are. And professional conduct demands that I reprimand you for your actions, and make very clear how much I disapprove of them." Argider's stern expression wavered, and his mouth turned up at one corner. "But, personally, I'm quite excited by the outcome. While I'm sorry you had to suffer such uncomfortable side effects, your transgression has forced us to question what we know about how distillates – and human bodies – work. You've become very important to the advancement of scientific knowledge in Esthar. Bet you never saw _that_ coming."

Irvine raised an eyebrow. Who was this guy? He didn't act like the other Estharians Irvine had met at the lab. He wasn't even dressed the same. But he wasn't an intruder; his badge spoke to that. And he didn't seem to make Quistis nervous at all. In fact, looking at her, uncapping a bullet and drawing a syringe full of orange gel, Irvine realized that she was perfectly at ease with Argider in the room.

So, he wasn't a lunatic, at least. A little overzealous about research, maybe, but not on the level of Dr. Odine. Irvine hoped.

Argider pulled a pen from his shirt pocket and clicked it. "Now, Irvine, if you don't mind, I'd like to ask you a few questions about your experience. And don't be shy about asking for clarification, if you need it."

"Okay."

Many of the questions Argider asked seemed basic – gauging Irvine's discomfort during tests, asking him what he remembered of his actions – but his expressions, and the copious notes he made about each answer, told Irvine they must be part of a larger, more complex, inquiry.

"Thank you, Irvine," he said at last. "Your answers will help give us some context in which to interpret the other subjects' experiences and results."

"Wait, _other_ subjects?" Irvine frowned. "As in, other than _me_?"

"Sure. It's imperative to collect as much data as possible before coming to a conclusion, especially on something as important as this."

Quistis' statement about luck – or, rather, the inutility of it – replayed in Irvine's mind. "So, how'd you get these subjects? Did you kidnap them?"

Argider looked at him strangely. "Of course not."

"You mean, people actually _volunteered_ for this stuff?"

"If by 'volunteer,' you mean, 'volunteered by their C.O.,' then, yeah." Argider grinned. "Peacetime is wonderful, unless you happen to be a low-ranking soldier."

Irvine stared at him. He really was a puzzle, the most easy-going person Irvine had met in Esthar. Irvine told him as much.

"Are you sure you're really Estharian?" he added.

Argider laughed. "Unless my parents have maintained an elaborate lie for thirty years, yes, I am. You'd be surprised to learn that, as a society, we're not really as stiff and humorless as a lot of people think we are. Though I can understand how you might have a hard time believing that here at O. Labs, surrounded as you are by – how can I put this diplomatically? – nerds."

"Look who's talking," Quistis said, still running through preparations. "Don't think I didn't see the latest installation of the _Midwinter King_ _Saga_ lying on your desk at the library."

"Ah, snooping again, I see."

"It was right there!" Laughter rippled through her words.

Irvine looked from Argider to Quistis, a bemused grin on his lips. Quistis' sudden playfulness added another level of strangeness to the situation. Irvine felt as if he'd somehow slipped into an alternate reality, albeit a very entertaining one.

"Tell me, Irvine," Argider said, turning back to him. "You've known Quistis a while; has she always been this nosy?"

"Back to work, Mr. Cato," Quistis said.

"Yes, ma'am!"

Confused though he was, the geniality of the exchange was contagious, and Irvine didn't want to miss out on it. He motioned Argider closer. "I don't know about nosy," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth, "but Quisty's always been bossy."

"Not just with me, then? That's a relief!" He glanced back at Quistis once more, then excused himself for the interruption, and asked Irvine a few more questions.

"Well, that's all I needed to know, for now," he said, rising and offering his hand once more. "Thank you for your time, Irvine. It's been great meeting you." He walked toward the door, and Quistis stopped him along the way.

"Will you be staying long?" she asked.

"Unfortunately, no. I've got quite a bit of work at the library. A few reports to finish, helping Retta process the new shipment. What about you? Long shift ahead?"

"I'm afraid so. I probably won't be out of here until 20:00 at the earliest, monitoring Irvine's recovery and logging data."

"In that case, I suppose dinner is out, but I'll call you tonight." He took her hand and gave it a quick squeeze. She reciprocated, and Irvine's eyes widened.

"I'm looking forward to it." Quistis held onto his hand a moment longer as they said their farewells. Argider waved to Irvine once more as he exited, and Quistis turned around, smiling.

"Quisty!" Irvine cried. "What was that? Flirting on the job? What about your boyfriend?"

Quistis simply looked at him, until realization dawned on Irvine's mind.

"Wait, _that_ was him?"

She nodded.

Irvine settled back, more perplexed than ever. "Huh. Not what I expected at all."

"I've heard that before."

"Well, yeah, you would! He's so laid-back and _normal_." When Quistis glared at him, Irvine tried to clarify. "When Sefie said you were seeing somebody, I imagined someone stuffy and uptight."

"Why? Because I'm stuffy and uptight?"

"Yeah! I mean, no! It's just, he's so different from you."

"Yes, he is, but we get along well."

"I'd think someone like that would annoy you."

"He does, sometimes; and I'm sure I sometimes annoy him." Quistis shrugged. "We're both very stubborn people who are used to being right, so it's only natural that we occasionally clash. But those are rare occurrences, and our differences pale in comparison to everything we share, and to how we feel about each other." Her smile returned, enigmatic and mischievous, and Irvine knew that was all he would hear about what Quistis and Argider shared.

He shifted in the bed, slightly unnerved to see this side of Quistis: soft and dreamy, and completely unapologetic for it. Irvine briefly wondered if Selphie had a similar side to herself, but shook away the thought with a grimace. That wasn't possible. Selphie wasn't sighs and goofy grins; Selphie was sunshine and dynamite, sweet and dangerous, a firecracker in a wildfire.

She was a force of nature, and that's what Irvine liked about her. That's what made her awesome.

Both he and Quistis were ripped from their reveries when Quistis' phone rang. She answered it, then rose and walked to the tray, a soft laugh escaping her and telling Irvine exactly who was on the other end. He rolled his eyes and extended his arm, waiting for the injection.

"That Argider guy's kind of silly," Irvine said, as Quistis swabbed the inside of his elbow. "Why don't you tell _him_ to grow up?"

"Because he has." She picked up the syringe and administered the distillate. "There's a key difference between you and Argider –"

"Yeah, I'm better-looking."

Quistis sniffed. "I didn't think the distillate would affect you so quickly. No, the difference is that Argider knows when to be serious. It's perfectly fine to be lighthearted, but you can't treat everything as a joke. You'd do well to remember that."

"Hey, I can be ser –" Irvine stopped short and swallowed hard, driving back the bile that rose in his throat. The room spun around him, and he shut his eyes against it. "Ugh, Quisty, I think I'm gonna need that bin."

She handed him the plastic bin without a moment to spare. He retched violently, bitter liquid burning his mouth and throat, stinging his nostrils. By the time he was finished and cleaned up, a pair of orderlies had arrived and swiftly moved him to the transport chair.

"You know, Quisty," he said, as they wheeled him into the hallway, "I never asked you what creature I'm supposed to act like today."

"Torama," Quistis answered, returning the bin to him in time for another barrage. "A very noble creature, just as you requested."

• • • •

"How'd you expect me to use Blaster?" Irvine asked weakly. "I don't even have whiskers!"

"I didn't," Quistis replied, curled up on the couch with a textbook. "This test was to confirm that you can't use magic or special skills from a distillate. That the Torama distillate is among our more powerful ones underscores that. No matter the strength of the distillate, non-blue mages cannot mimic magical attacks."

"I could've told you that last week. I think you're enjoying this."

"What, making you uncomfortable, watching you hallucinate, spending hours with you during recovery? There are many other ways I'd prefer to spend my time, and I don't like seeing you hurt."

"Not very convincing." Irvine looked out the window and saw daylight giving way to a lavender evening sky. "Hey, how long was I out?"

Quistis glanced at the clock. "A little over eight hours. It took longer to remove this distillate from your system, and the med team recommended extended sedation to prevent the recurrence of side effects. How are you feeling?"

"Gutted. Really, I feel empty. No energy."

"You haven't eaten in over twenty hours. Would you like me to request a meal for you?"

"Nothing heavy." Irvine couldn't believe he'd said that. The way his stomach felt at the moment, however, he was certain heavy foods would send it back into full-scale rebellion. He pressed a button on the siderail and raised himself to a seated position. He blinked and shook his head to clear it of cobwebs spun by sedation, then watched Quistis hang up the phone after making a request. "Have you been here the whole time?"

"Of course. That's my job."

"Must be awful boring. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. I have enough to keep me busy."

"Your schoolwork, eh? How's it going?"

"It's going well. The courses are challenging, but I'm keeping up. The hardest part is managing my time."

"Yeah, I was wondering about that. How do you do it?"

"With difficulty." Quistis smiled. "I've only got two years of study left, however, and every time I begin to tire of it, I remind myself that it's worth working here, and proving that I can succeed outside of Garden."

"You still gotta prove yourself? Even after everything we did?"

"'Everything' means nothing to most people. Nobody understands what we did back then, not even ourselves. Aside from the Lunar Cry and whatever effects Time Compression had on this era, no one witnessed Ultimecia's power directly. That makes it hard for them to even envision the threat she posed, let alone comprehend how we stopped it.

"For most people, once conditions returned to normal, life went on. They rebuilt and continued, and that's all anybody really could do. Saving the world is never enough to fill up a resume, let alone when nobody knows _how_ you saved it."

"I guess you're right. That sucks."

"It sure does."

Irvine was quiet for a moment, remembering what they'd gone through. The violence he witnessed, the horrific visions that plagued him on the way out of Time Compression. Those remained with him, but, over the years, he had pushed them to the periphery of his consciousness, desensitized to their imagery except when they invaded his sleep.

"Quisty," he said quietly, "do you still have the dreams?"

"Nightmares? Yes."

"Even with –"

"Those nightmares are ours alone to grapple with. Nobody can take them away, and it's unfair to expect anyone to." She looked down, biting her lip and blinking rapidly. "All anybody else can do is comfort us when those dreams come, but that's still more support than we got when the dreams were still fresh, still very real."

"Garden sucks, too." Irvine felt his chest tighten with resentment. "No support at all. We saved the world, had a big party, then after that, it was back to the grind, figure things out for yourselves. I only hung around as long as I did because of Sefie, because I wanted to help her rebuild Trabia Garden. But once I turned nineteen, Cid kept hounding me about taking the SeeD exam. When I realized he wasn't going to bend the rules for me – or, you know, just make me an honorary SeeD for helping you guys – I left.

"It wasn't 'til I hit Deling City, though, that I figured out Garden's biggest trick of all: turning us loose with no practical work skills. So, there I was, looking for a job, with no real talent except for my shooting." Irvine smirked. "But what Garden didn't know was, I learn best on my feet."

"We have to." Quistis sighed. "Garden taught us how to fight, how to kill, how to survive. They never taught us how to live."

"Probably 'cause they never thought we'd live this long, anyway. We showed them, huh?"

"Yes, I suppose we did." She grinned. "You're very resilient, Irvine. Especially for someone with a streak of chicken a mile wide."

"Hey, don't use my humble admissions against me!" He couldn't maintain a scowl, however, particularly when an orderly walked in with a tray of food. Irvine sat up straight and looked at the bowl of broth and packets of crackers in front of him, then groaned.

"Try to keep that down, first," Quistis said, returning to her book. "Then, you can request something more substantial."

He did, and followed his soup with a sandwich. Then, satisfied and still lethargic from sedation, he reclined his bed and looked up at the ceiling.

"You can leave now, Quisty," he said. "I'm fine."

"Thank you, but I'll stay here until it's time for your next reading. That's only about twenty minutes away."

"Are you sure ol' Argie won't mind you spending time with a dashing young sharpshooter instead of him?"

"I'm glad to see your ego is undamaged, but I highly doubt Argider considers you a threat."

Irvine laughed good-naturedly. "Yeah, probably not. So, one more test to go, huh? Then I get to sleep for a week and collect those sweet, sweet gil?"

"That's right. This project passed much more quickly than I thought it would."

"Another thing that's easy for you to say." He yawned. "But thanks, Quisty, for putting up with me."

"I didn't have a choice."

"Yes, you did. You could've left me here in the dark, no magazines, no conversation, only popping in whenever to check these machines."

"That would be shirking my duties."

"Excuses, excuses. Just admit it, Quisty, you're a big softie." He turned toward the window and smiled as Quistis stammered to find a suitable retort. He never heard it, however, since sleep moved in swiftly and carried him away once more.


	7. Chapter 7

The blue-green substance in the Blue Bullet sparkled under the fluorescent lights, and looked cool, even refreshing. Irvine knew that was not the case, but he couldn't shake the ghost of a minty taste as he watched Quistis draw it into a syringe.

"Blue Dragon," she explained, when she noticed him staring. "This will be an interesting test, to be sure. Blue mages use this distillate to learn a high-level version of the Drain spell; however, the Blue Dragon has a strong physical attack, as well, which you might be able to replicate."

"Grab Punch." Irvine frowned, remembering how much it hurt to be on the receiving end of that attack.

"Exactly. If you are able to use this skill, it would suggest that your system is adaptive to the variety of skill-bearing compounds in the distillate, and able to select a skill that corresponds to the extent of your ability. Which, frankly, is terrifying, and would demand we rework the Blue Bullet concept for use against human opponents."

"Did you just say 'terrifying?' Practical and cool-headed Quisty is scared of something?"

"Consider a scenario – we'll use the Blue Dragon distillate as an example – where you are facing down an army and choose to deploy Blue Bullets against them. The regular human soldiers will suffer the effects of Drain or Grab Punch; the carriers will begin using the Grab Punch skill; and any soldiers with the slightest natural affinity for magic will begin hurling an assortment of spells back at you: Bio, Confuse, Death. The tables could turn unbelievably quickly, as a result of your own action."

"Yeesh. That's terrifying, all right." Irvine smirked. "Lucky I tried out those Blue Bullets for myself, first, huh?"

"Yes."

Irvine raised his eyebrows.

"I don't believe I've thanked you," Quistis went on, "for being so reckless, and shooting yourself with a Blue Bullet."

"Hey, I didn't shoot myself! I caught a ricochet. Big difference."

"Either way, like you said, without your little accident, none of us would have even guessed that the bullets could have such effects on a non-blue mage. So, thank you, but please, don't make a habit of that kind of behavior."

"Nah, I think this little stint at O. Labs has cured me of that, at least where experimental ammo is concerned. Can't speak for anything else."

"I didn't imagine you would." Quistis fished her phone from her pocket when the call came from the fifth floor, then approached Irvine with the syringe. "One last time. Are you ready?"

"So, I'm going straight from testing into recovery?"

Quistis nodded.

"All right, then. Let's do this!"

"See you next week," Quistis said, and administered the distillate. Much like his experience with the Torama distillate, Irvine's worst symptom was nausea, and it came on quickly. He heaved into the plastic bin and noticed his surroundings warping and melting. By now realizing that he was hallucinating, he shut his eyes and remained as still as he could, mumbling the details to Quistis. He opened his eyes to find the room normal, but Quistis' features rearranged. Fighting the fear that sprang into his chest, he closed his eyes once more, only risking a peek when he heard the orderlies arrive.

Everything looked normal again.

He suffered another bout of nausea as they approached the testing chamber, and he did his best to ignore the crowd of onlookers as he set aside the bin and staggered to his assigned place. As his eyes adjusted to the lighting inside the chamber, he stared down the training dummy placed there to absorb his physical attacks. He took a deep breath, then gave a thumbs-up to the technicians in the control booth.

"Fire it up," he said.

He remembered very little of what happened during the test, save for a rush of adrenaline like he had never felt before. He reared back and roared, then charged at the training dummy. He reached out with his left arm and grabbed it, pulling it toward him while drawing back his right arm, which he let fly with a vicious punch. He felt the skin on his knuckles split against the training dummy's head, then repeated the attack. His vision darkened at the edges, and his world shrank to just him and his target. Again and again, he punched the dummy, caught in a loop of adrenaline, pain, anger, and retaliation.

He never noticed the lights come up around him, never heard the door to the chamber open. He only felt a pair of strong hands grip each of his biceps, and a cold needle plunge into his neck. Then, darkness.

• • • •

There were voices, garbled. A strange sucking sound, the rhythmic beeps of monitors. A choking sensation that Irvine fought against, without effect, as his wrists and ankles refused to move. Cold metal against his chest. Garbled voices again, and, again, darkness.

• • • •

Irvine walked through the gate at Trabia Garden, the version of the Garden that he recognized from Selphie's photographs, the ghost of the Garden that existed before the missile attack. SeeDs and cadets walked the campus, smiling, laughing, going about their business. He found Selphie at the basketball court, teaching the underclassmen some new game. He volunteered as her instruction partner, and they spent the early afternoon having fun.

Suddenly, an alarm blared from the PA system, along with instructions to take cover. Irvine's blood ran cold as he heard the missiles approach, a high-pitched whine that grew louder until he felt his eardrums would burst. He grabbed Selphie's hand and led her through the Garden, realizing they would never reach shelter in time. As the missiles passed overhead, he pulled her to the ground and flung his body over hers for cover.

The earth shook with the missiles' impact, and dust and debris rained down around them, but the Garden stood. He heard the students cheer, heard them laugh and cry in relief. Trabia Garden was saved. Everyone was safe.

"You hear that, Sefie?" Irvine said. "They missed! Galbadia missed! We did it!"

But Selphie made no sound.

As Irvine raised himself to his knees, he realized, with horror, that she'd never speak again. In his haste to protect her, he'd pulled her down quickly, and she'd landed awkwardly, striking her neck against a large stone. Eyes open but unseeing, Selphie was no more.

And it was Irvine's fault.

He'd wanted to help, wanted so badly to save her, that he'd done just the opposite.

He screamed. He screamed for what felt like ages, until his voice had left him, and he realized at least that part was true.

He had no voice.

He forced his eyes open with a gasp.

And saw the back of figure in a yellow dress as she walked out the door.

"Sefie!" he rasped, slowly registering his surroundings.

A hospital bed in a sleek, futuristic room. Monitors and electrodes, restraints on his arms and legs. He called out for Selphie once more, but was answered by a white-robed person, instead. More white robes descended on him, poking, prodding, shining lights into his eyes. He struggled against the restraints, calling out for Selphie over and over, his throat aflame, his voice fading.

"Irvine."

He recognized the voice, calm and feminine, but he couldn't come up with a name.

"Irvine, settle down. They're trying to help you."

An authoritative voice. A _bossy _voice.

_Bossy little Quisty._

What was she doing here? Confused as he was, Irvine figured Quistis wouldn't be anywhere she shouldn't be, and if she was telling him to calm down, she must understand what was going on. He relaxed, and his memory gradually caught up to his surroundings.

Esthar. Odine Laboratories. Testing.

_Oh, right._

As the white robes dispersed, apparently satisfied with what they'd found, Quistis stepped forward and placed her hand on his arm.

"Irvine, are you all right?" she asked.

"Sefie," he croaked. "I saw Sefie. She's alive."

Quistis frowned at him. "Of course she is. You've only been out for five days."

"Five days?" Blue Dragon. Testing chamber. Cold needle. "Blue Bullet testing? It's over?"

"Yes, it is." Quistis' expression warmed. "Congratulations, Irvine, you survived it."

"Whew. What's going on? My voice. My arms … legs."

"You were intubated while under anesthesia, and restrained so you wouldn't hurt yourself. We'll remove the restraints once you're completely clear-headed again."

"Oh. So, Sefie. She was here?"

"She's been here since the end of last week. She flew the others back after their mission ended, and got a special assignment from Laguna to transport you home, as well. Since you're done with testing, she's been allowed to visit you, and has stayed here from open to close each day." Quistis glanced at some of the monitors beside Irvine's bed and smiled. "I didn't figure you'd wake up today, so I sent her out to dinner with a friend of mine and her family, to get her mind off of things. She'll be back tomorrow morning."

"She didn't have to come …"

"Of course not, but she cares about you. She's a dedicated friend."

Irvine yawned and shook his head, feeling the fuzziness of anesthesia slowly recede. The memory of the dream he'd had just before waking returned, and fear and sadness settled in his chest, heavy and cold. The dream wasn't real, but the terror and heartbreak were.

"Quisty," he said, "I had the dream again. Right before I woke up."

"The one from Time Compression?"

"Yeah. Sefie … Sefie was … gone. My fault."

"That explains what you said earlier." Quistis sat down beside his bed. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not much to say. I tried to protect her from the missiles, and ended up killing her. I'm scared. What if I really can't protect Sefie?"

"You don't have to. Selphie's a SeeD; she's probably better at protecting you."

Irvine chuckled. "She would be even if she wasn't a SeeD."

"It seems that Time Compression held a mirror to our worst fears. I don't know if we'll ever be free of the nightmares, but maybe we can work against those fears during our waking hours."

"Work against…?"

Quistis shook her head. "Don't worry about it right now. Just focus on your surroundings, and come back slowly. You'll want to be able to talk with Selphie when she visits tomorrow, right?"

"Definitely."

"Then, relax. I'll be right here if you need anything."

Irvine nodded, and slowly put the pieces of his situation together in his mind. He drifted back to sleep not long afterward, this time unburdened by dreams of any kind.

• • • •

His right hand hurt. Irvine lifted it to take a look, vaguely realizing the restraints were gone, and saw a large bruise running across his knuckles, accented by scabs. Had he really punched the testing dummy that hard?

He turned his head to the side, and his heart leapt when he saw Selphie sitting on the couch, reading from a large book and wearing a construction-paper crown.

"Sefie," he said. "You're here!"

Selphie seemed surprised to hear him, and looked at him with a wide grin. "Hey, Irvy, glad you're back!" she said, then moved to the chair beside the bed. "How're you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess. A little woozy." He pointed to her crown, on which was scrawled, "Airship Queen," in childish handwriting. "What's this? You have a new title?"

"Oh, yeah! I had dinner last night with Quisty's friend Retta and her family. Retta's sons – and her husband – are airship fanatics, and we talk about that stuff a lot. The younger boy called me 'Airship Lady,' but his brother said that's what they call Quisty already, so they decided on 'Airship Queen' for me! I think it fits!" She reached behind her and picked up one of the books. "And Retta's husband lent me some books on airship history. There's some neato information here!"

"Ah, I'm friends with royalty now!"

"Yeah, but don't expect any perks. My queendom is still really, really small." She leaned against the bed rail and sighed. "I've been worried about you, you know."

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"You should be sorry! The last I saw of you, you were all floppy from sedation, and then I couldn't even talk to you for two weeks! I had no idea what they were doing to you here."

"It wasn't that bad."

Selphie gave him a skeptical look.

"Okay, okay, so I had some nasty reactions to the stuff they gave me, but I was well taken care of. All the food I could eat."

"Your priorities are weird." Selphie glanced toward the window, and the blue sky beyond. "Quisty says you should be ready to go as early as tomorrow."

"First I've heard of it."

"And I'm going to be your personal pilot to Deling City. Sir Laguna's orders! Bet you're ready to get back to normal, huh?"

_Normal_. Irvine could barely remember what normal was. Hopping from job to job, competition to competition, always wondering where his next month's rent was coming from. Suddenly, 'normal' didn't seem so appealing. He made a noncommittal sound in response to Selphie's question.

"Oh, come on! Back to your city, your apartment, your _lady friends_." She nudged his arm and winked.

He didn't want that. He wanted to stay with Selphie. He'd trade everything he had in Deling, he realized, for a few more days here, as long as Selphie was by his side.

Maybe he'd made a mistake leaving Garden. Maybe he should've listened to Cid. Maybe he should've become a SeeD.

He didn't realize he'd said the last part aloud until Selphie laughed.

"A SeeD? You?" She wiped her eyes. "Irvy, you're a good fighter – when you take things seriously – but I can't see you following orders all the time. You're too flighty."

"I can follow orders! I can be serious! Hey, if Zell can do it, it's not impossible."

"It's too late for that. Why are you suddenly interested in it, anyway?"

Irvine couldn't answer. He slumped against his pillow and looked out the window. He wanted to be dependable, he wanted to prove he'd grown up. He wanted to be someone Selphie could be proud of, someone she could lean on if she ever got tired of being tough.

Except there was no way of telling her this.

"Maybe you think you missed out on something by being here instead of with the rest of us," Selphie went on. "And you did! Dr. Odine kept checking in on Rinoa at the _worst _possible times, and Zell got blasted by a Torama twice in one day. And then Squall thought he'd finished off an Imp, but it started flying instead and chased him around until Rinnie shot it down, and …"

Irvine smiled. He watched Selphie's eyes widen and her gestures grow, and he settled in his bed, listening to her recount the hunt for him, letting himself get caught up in her energy, pulled along, as always, on an unpredictable ride.

• • • •

"Aren't you done changing yet?" Selphie asked, facing the wall and covering her eyes.

"Almost." Irvine buttoned up his shirt. "There. All decent. You missed a golden opportunity to see a guy in peak physical condition, Sefie. When else are you going to get that chance?"

"When I _find _a guy in peak physical condition. Face it, Irvy, all that food here has left you a little soft around the middle."

"I'll walk it off."

"I don't know. I kinda like squishy Irvy." Selphie jabbed her finger into his stomach. He laughed and doubled over.

"Please refrain from getting handsy in the infirmary," Quistis said, walking in with a stack of papers. She pulled several from the top and handed them to Irvine with a smile. "A receipt of a deposit made into your account, and your discharge papers. You're officially free, Irvine. Thank you for your service."

"I'd say it was nothing," Irvine said, "but that would be the biggest lie I've ever told."

"I hope you've at least learned your lesson."

"Sure did. Don't use experimental ammo … against enemies using protective spells."

Quistis groaned and shook her head. "I don't know why I expected you to change."

"'Cause you're more of an optimist than you admit. Aww, don't worry, Quisty, I won't do anything too stupid. And if I do, I'll be back in Deling, anyway, so you'll never have to hear about it!"

"Take care of yourself, Irvine. And consider some of the things we talked about." She glanced at Selphie, then mouthed, "For Selphie."

Irvine saluted. "Will do!"

Quistis escorted them out of Odine Laboratories, and waved to them as they walked down the skyway. Irvine waved back, squinting in the full sunlight, feeling its heat tingle on his skin. He breathed in the dry air and stretched his back and arms as he walked. It felt good to be out the hospital bed; it felt good to be out of Odine Laboratories.

"So," Selphie said, skipping a few paces ahead, "do you want to get going right away, or stop for a quick bite first?"

"Quick bite, definitely," Irvine said. He'd only had a small breakfast and it was approaching lunchtime.

"Whoo-hoo! I was hoping you'd say that. I found this yummy restaurant not far from here. They give you tons of food for your money, and they have the sweetest desserts, too! Come on!" She grabbed Irvine's wrist and ran down the skyway. He stumbled after her, laughing and clutching his hat to his head.

Selphie was right; the portion sizes at this restaurant were enormous. She ordered a sandwich, which came with a mountain of crisp-fried vegetables, some of which Irvine had never seen before. Curious, he ordered something similar. The meat inside the sandwich was juicy and flavorful, and quite spicy. He coughed and reached for his water glass, and Selphie giggled.

"Not what you're used to in Deling, huh?" she asked through a mouthful of food.

"No, indeedy." He mopped at his forehead with a napkin. "Where have the Estharians been hiding this stuff? These spices could power an airship!"

"Would you like to order something else? My treat."

"No. Irvine Kinneas does not back down. There's no way I'm gonna let a _sandwich_ get the better of me." He took another bite, and reached for his water glass again. Selphie suggested he try some vegetables along with the sandwich, but he noticed her grin too late. The vegetables were also spicy, albeit with a deeper, smokier flavor, and Irvine's entire mouth felt as if it had taken the brunt of Ifrit's Hellfire attack. Still, he soldiered on. Sweat streamed down his face, his nose was beginning to run, but he forced a smile and finished his meal.

Selphie applauded, quietly, then promptly ordered dessert for both of them. Irvine was relieved to see two slices of regular cake arrive, topped and filled with a creamy frosting. It was sweet and decadent, and it helped to douse the flames in his mouth. By the time he'd finished it, the ordeal of the sandwich was a distant memory, and he licked the last of the frosting off his fork.

"That was delicious," he said. "Do you always eat like this when you're here, Sefie?"

"Nope, I just found this place a few days ago. But I've been trying more and more Estharian food every time I visit. I think I'm starting to handle the spices a lot better."

"Yeah, and those spices! You could've warned me!"

"But that wouldn't be any fun!" Selphie laughed. "Besides, you survived it, just like you survived all that testing. You're a little bit tougher now."

"Still not tough enough," Irvine mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing."

When the bill arrived, Irvine reached for his wallet, insisting that Selphie let him pay for both of their meals.

"I just got paid today. Besides, think of it as a 'thank you' for coming back. You could've stayed in Balamb with the others."

"And left my best friend to an uncertain fate? No way!"

"Best friend?" Irvine looked up at her, grinning.

"Of course! We've been best friends forever, since we were little! I know I kinda forgot about it for a while, but that's the GFs' fault." She shrugged. "We're a team, you and me! Partners in crime, partners in discovery."

"Partners in anything else?"

Selphie shook her finger at him. "That's pushing it, Irvy."

Irvine swallowed his disappointment, more bitter and painful than anything he'd eaten today, and gave a good-natured laugh. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

He thanked the waiter for handing back his payment card, and when he went to put the card back into his wallet, he noticed a business card bunched up in one of the slots. Pulling it out, he saw it was Chief Clayburn's business card, from the Deling City Police Department. What had Clayburn told him, to call if he was interested in working there? What would working there involve? Lots of regimentation, of course, just like Garden. Irvine wasn't sure he could handle an environment like that anymore.

But hadn't he just said he could yesterday, when he wished he'd stayed at Garden and become a SeeD? He was willing to endure it in that case, because of Selphie. Why should this be any different? It was still because of Selphie; he wanted to show her that he could be responsible and dependable, more than a best friend if she ever needed him to be.

He stared at the card, turning it over in his fingers several times, until Selphie asked if he was ready to go. He nodded, put on his best silly smile, and slid the card into his shirt pocket, for future consideration.

Apparently energized by her meal, Selphie chattered all the way to the airstation, about the mission she'd just completed; about Laguna extending her contract to wait for Irvine; about how, even after visiting Esthar for years, she still got turned around in the city.

"One day, I spent the whole afternoon in the shopping mall, 'cause every time I left, I ended up there again," she said.

"Oh, boy, a pilot with a bad sense of direction," Irvine said. "Can I really trust you to get me home?"

"Absolutely! It's a _lot_ easier to tell where you are when you're in the air. C'mon, Irvy, when have I ever let you down?"

"Never."

"That's right!" She spun to face him, her smile as bright and warm as the Estharian sun. "And I don't intend to start now."

She turned and walked into the airstation ahead of him. Irvine lingered a moment, dazzled by the light she seemed to radiate, the unbreakable spirit that made her almost sparkle.

"Galloping gumdrops, Irvy, you're so slow!" she called from the doorway. "Hurry up!"

"Be right there." He blinked the light from his eyes and jogged toward the airstation entrance.

• • • •

Irvine had walked up and down the front steps of the Deling City Police Department at least ten times. Each time, he'd reach the doors, and feel his courage drain away as they slid open. This time was different. This time, he'd finally go in.

There was nothing to worry about. No commitment. Just talking. Chief Clayburn had been nice enough to set aside time from his busy day to meet with Irvine, and here Irvine was, wasting it. Irvine took a deep breath and shook out his arms. This was it. For real. For his future.

_For me and Sefie_.

He climbed the stairs at a brisk pace and didn't let himself stop until he reached the reception desk. He stammered his name and business to the clerk there, then sat on one of the wooden benches in the lobby, his knees bent at an uncomfortably high angle. He purposely faced away from the door, but he couldn't stop a flicker of panic in his chest when Chief Clayburn stepped into the lobby and invited him back to his office.

Clayburn's chair was thankfully higher than the bench, and Irvine relaxed a bit. He watched Clayburn take a seat on the other side of the desk and fold his hands on top of it.

"So, you want to work for the Deling City Police Department," Clayburn said. "We'd be very happy to have someone with your skill on the force."

"Uh, yeah, I think I do," Irvine said. "I'm not sure yet. That's why I want to talk to you."

"All right. Is there a particular issue that's holding you back? Anything we can do to help?"

"Probably not. It's all in my head." Irvine rubbed his neck, then leaned forward. "I'm a free spirit, see, and I've been one forever. Even when I was in Garden, I couldn't fall in line with everybody else. That's not me. Well, that _wasn't _me."

"You've changed."

"I don't know. I think I have. I know I want to. But when I think about the police academy and the training and the missions, it all sounds so much like Garden, I get cold feet."

Clayburn sighed and sat back, steepling his fingers in front of his mouth. "Tell you what, Irvine, let's have that conversation we agreed on over the phone. No commitment. You tell me about yourself, I tell you about working with the DCPD. Then, if you still have reservations, you can walk away. Sound good?"

"No obligations, right?"

"That's right."

"Okay …"

"Well, then, let's start with you. Tell me about yourself. Who is Irvine Kinneas?"

Irvine chuckled. He'd been trying to figure that out for years. "D'you want the short version, or the long one?"

"Whichever you're comfortable telling me."

"Alrighty." Irvine took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Then, opening them, he settled back in his chair and started from the beginning. He started with an old stone house, and the smell of the sea, and the sunny smile of the girl who would always light up his world.

THE END


End file.
